


I'll Try to Change

by Castielsbee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Anxiety, Complete, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mental Disorders, Suicide, trigger warning: self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:32:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 47
Words: 267,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castielsbee/pseuds/Castielsbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destiel High School AU: Castiel is bullied, alone, and broken. He resumes a cold attitude towards those around him, and they accept it without a care. What happens when Dean Winchester tries to break past Castiel's barrier? Will Castiel let him in? Or will he push him away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Castiel Novak didn't get a wink of sleep last night. The weekend was over, and that meant that it was time to go back. The young teen had been up all night, stomach churning with apprehension at the thought of what awaited him. He wanted so badly to call in sick and curl up in his bed, nestled under the sheets. Perhaps if he wound himself up into a tight enough ball he'd disappear forever.

It was only a thought, of course. Because Castiel knew what his father would do if he were to even _try_ and pull through with faking sick. Mr. Novak never let his son skip school. In fact, when the teen was sick with bronchitis back during his freshman year, he was still forced by his father to attend his classes. There was no way Castiel would be able to stay home just because he wanted to.

So, with a groan muffled by sheets, Castiel mustered up the courage to slip out of his bed and head to the shower. He turned the glass knob with a squeak and stripped gingerly out of his clothes before stepping in. As Castiel's skin made contact with the steaming water he felt the torn at flesh of his arms cry out in protest. Last night had been particularly difficult for him in the emotional department, and the skin of his arms had taken most of the blow. The fresh cuts were swollen with irritation and the little amount of scabs that had begun to form were now gone and washed away, reopening the thin (yet deep) wounds.

Castiel quickly finished his shower and stepped out, drying himself then slipping on one of his many long-sleeves and dark jeans. Wiping off the steam on the mirror, the teen gazed at his pale complexion. Tired blue eyes gazed back at him, underlined by purplish shadows from staying up most of the night. His skin was paler than normal from his lack of sleep, and Castiel sighed, running hands down his face as if to wipe off the flaws he couldn't help but dwell over. The young boy ran shaking fingers through his damp hair in his frustration, messing it up as he exhaled and tried to relax his tense muscles.

Deciding against peering once more at his reflection, Castiel brushed his teeth, popped on his contacts, and then left the bathroom, tugging on his jacket and slinging his backpack onto his shoulders. He threw a quick prayer (as he always did) before he left his room as quietly as he could.

When Castiel got to the living room he silently thanked God that his father was fast asleep on the couch. With his dad sleeping, the teen could actually pack a lunch without getting lectured for imaginary wrongs that he did not commit. So he made himself a sandwich and threw in an apple into a plastic grocery bag, along with a bottle of water. The teen did all of this as quietly as he could, so as not to wake up his father. After putting his lunch into his backpack and grabbing a granola bar, Castiel slipped out of the house and made his trek to school.

He couldn't feel less ready.

* * *

"Sammy! Hurry up or I'm leavin' without ya!" Dean Winchester called out to his little brother as he munched on another piece of bacon and downed the last of his coffee, being sure to leave the dregs swirling in the mug. It was their first day at their new schools and they were already going to be late. Normally, Dean didn't give a damn how late he was to school. But Sam was finishing his last year of middle school, and he took his studies very seriously. So Dean tried to somewhat respect that.

The Winchester boys were always moving around due to their dad's job as a private investigator. After about their tenth time moving (back when Dean was thirteen), Dean learned not to worry too much about making good impressions at schools. He did his homework, kept good grades, and he made sure his GPA stayed steady so he could one day join his dad in his work field. That was Dean's plan. And he had stuck to that plan as long as he could remember. So normally the pattern at the schools he attended went something like this:

-Teachers didn't like him, but normally didn't bother him too much because he kept decent grades

-Students always seemed to like him and didn't give him trouble, and,

-Dean would find himself moving a few months (or a year, the longest) later

That was it. No attachments, no worries, and the opportunity at a fresh new start always presented itself.

Sam walked into the kitchen and grabbed the last three strips of bacon. "You wouldn't leave without me," Sam pointed out with a mouthful and a smug smile. "Dad would kill you.”

Dean shrugged and returned Sam's sarcastic smile. "Dad isn't here. Now come on, let's get a move on," Dean ordered as he headed out the door, followed by his brother (who gave Dean his signature eye roll). They climbed into a sleek black '67 Impala, Dean's most prized possession. John Winchester, Dean's father, gave him the car when he turned sixteen a year ago. It had been sitting at their uncle Bobby's garage, rotting away until John brought it over to Chicago and Dean fixed it up and got it running, again. It was the one thing Dean owned that would never change in his hectic life. It was the stability and the source of Dean's happiness, as cheesy as that sounded.

Dean started up the car, smiling at the lively purr it emitted as he pulled out of the driveway. He gripped onto the steering wheel with one hand (something John would normally reprimand him for doing) and made his way to Sammy's middle school, which was conveniently located right across the road from Dean's high school. the familiar tunes of Metallica blasted as he cruised down the road.

Sam sighed as he looked up from a book, taking to rolling his eyes again. "Don't you think it's a bit early for... _this?_ " Sam asked, gesturing towards the cassette player.

Dean raised the volume in response. "It's never too early for Metallica," the blond replied, flashing his brother a winning smile. "So, Sammy, you ready?" Dean asked, referring to starting a new school. Sam was usually nervous on his first day, and he never enjoyed moving. Every time they had to leave Sam would put up a fight, asking why they couldn't stay. Sam's problem was that he usually got too attached. He made friends and he impressed the teachers. Dean was pretty sure the kid couldn't help it, though. He was naturally charming to those around him. He was a smart kid and he always involved himself as much as he could in school. Sam would join clubs and academic groups and he'd make tons of friends. Dean made a lot of "friends" himself, but he never grew attached to them like Sam did.

Sammy laid his head back against the passenger seat and closed his eyes. "I'm ready, I guess. I just wish we didn't have to leave Chicago. It was the one nice city we ever lived in," Sam reminisced. He opened his eyes and gazed out the window. "Now we're back in this crap town."

"Alright, alright, Donnie Darko. Lawrence isn't that bad. And it’s the closest thing to home we’ve ever had," Dean tried, glancing at his brother before he returned his eyes to the road. Sam wore a frown, clearly not convinced. "Cheer up, you always do well in school. What's wrong with a new experience?" Dean asked, trying to get his brother to see the brighter side of this. He knew the answer, though. They had this talk every time they were about to start at a new school.

"I _don't want_ a new experience, Dean," Sam whined. "I just want to settle down. I want a place we can call our home! I don't want any more condos and motels and suitcases filling the rooms we stay in! I just..." Sam let out a frustrated sigh before rolling his eyes and looking out the window. "Whatever. It doesn't change anything."

The rest of the drive went in silence.

 ****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art for this chapter was created by AO3 user karovie. Check out my profile with a link to her tumblr, deviant art, and ff.n account :)


	2. You're Just Like the Others

Castiel managed to make it to homeroom without any trouble from Alastair, his regular bully. _Maybe it’s a sign things will go well, today_ , Castiel thought to himself, sarcastically, as he sat in his usual seat in the back. He avoided the gazes and laughing whispers from those around him, as was routine. The teen sank into his seat and pulled out a book, putting it in front of his face as he tried to focus on it and block out the world. It was _The Giver_ , today. Castiel had gotten this book as a gift back when he was twelve, and it was his most prized possession. He always carried it around with him. He could hardly remember how many times he had read it. Enough to recite a good majority of it. It was kind of like a comfort object for when Castiel was feeling his worse.

Just as Castiel had gotten into the story, his homeroom teacher spoke up and the teen resisted the urge to look up and see what he had to say. Stay invisible, stay invisible, stay invisible-

"Listen up, everybody. Come on, quiet- settle down. We have a new student," Mr. Dawson announced. "Why don't you introduce yourself, Mr.-"

"Dean. Dean Winchester," the student interrupted, earning a couple of unnecessary giggles from the girls in the class. Castiel, unable to help himself, found that he was looking up to see who the new student was. His eyes landed on a boy with dirty blond hair that was messily styled in a cool and casual fashion. A leather jacket adorned his figure, and he wore worn out jeans. He was definitely handsome, Castiel noted. He'd fit in just fine. Maybe he’d even serve as a distraction to the students and ease the attention off Castiel, for a while. It wasn’t every day their school had a new student.

" _Right_ ," Mr. Dawson said slowly. "Well, take a seat wherever you'd like, Mr. Winchester. There's no kind of seating order."

With a nod, Dean walked over to the empty seat next to Gordon, another one of the bullies that loved to harass Castiel. The two began chatting, and soon Lisa, a cheerleader, joined them, flirting obscenely with Dean who automatically flirted back, throwing her a brilliant white-toothed smile. Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Great, there'd be a new addition to the ever expanding list of individuals Castiel would have to avoid. With a sigh, the dark-haired teen buried his face back into his book and forced himself not to let his gaze wander to the new student.

Soon the bell rang and Castiel stayed in his seat as long as he could in order to avoid running into Alastair in the hallways. Luck was on his side when he made it to English in one piece, although he was inevitably a few minutes late. Mrs. Madison didn't mind, though. She just threw Castiel a knowing glance and a smile, nodding towards his seat. Mrs. Madison was Castiel's only friend, if he were to be completely honest. She wasn't like the other teachers, who just dismissed Castiel's bruises and black eyes. She cared about him and she always tried to reach out to him. He wondered if she'd still be that way if they did not know one another.... Of course, Castiel denied her acts of kindness, always insisting that he was indeed fine. He couldn't afford attachment. Because he knew he'd always end up alone.

Castiel took his usual seat in the back of the classroom, slipping off his jacket to wipe off the water someone had spilled onto the plastic chair before sitting down. This happened all the time, and quite frankly it became something a periodic part of his day. The subtle bullying didn't even phase him, anymore. Castiel had learned to look at his seat before sitting in it, check his jacket for stickers before leaving a room, and to catch a worksheet when it was being thrown (rather than passed) back to him. It was just some of the small things that constructed Castiel's regular day at school.

To be fair, though, not everybody outwardly bullied Castiel. Only a select few really pursued him. To the vast majority of people in his class, he was more of a nobody. He was ignored, unapproached (due to Alastair’s popularity and influence), and overall disregarded as a person.

In fact, he sort of liked it better that way. It was easy not having people in his life. Lonely, but easy. It was the biggest safety Castiel was guaranteed. So he pushed off any advances of the kinder students who tried to befriend him, and earned the status of a cold, rude, and flat out unappealing person.

Pulling out his copy of Shakespeare's _Julius Ceasar_ , Castiel got to reading. It was his junior year at Lasserton High, and that meant they would be studying British Literature. Brit. Lit. was Castiel's favorite subject, because it had all of his favorite authors and poets such as Shelley, Shakespeare, Dickens, and his absolute favorite: Tennyson. He enjoyed Mrs. Madison's lectures the most of all his teachers, and he tried not to let the bullying students put him through ruin his time in this class.

Just as the class started and the teacher had pulled out her copy of _Julius Ceasar_ , Dean Winchester hustled into the room, looking around confusedly.

Mrs. Madison put her book down and gazed at Dean pointedly, her blue eyes curious. "Yes, can I help you?"

Dean looked at her and gave an apologetic smile. "Is this room D117? Some of the rooms don't have numbers and I kinda got lost..." he mumbled the last part.

Mrs. Madison raised her eyebrows and looked at her attendance board, dark brown curls falling forward as she tilted her head slightly. "You must be Dean. Well, you're in the right place, Mr. Winchester. Take a seat, please," she instructed.

Excited whispers instantly filled the room.

Dean obliged, throwing a smile to a girl named Marissa, who waved at him with the tip of her fingers from her seat in the front of the classroom. Castiel suddenly realized that the only empty seats were on both sides of his own, since people tried to avoid sitting near him at all costs. He suppressed the urge to groan out loud. His day had just taken a turn for the worse.

 _Alright, Castiel, all you have to do is be invisible_ , a voice in his head told him. _He won't bother you if you ignore him. Ignore him and read and blend in and-_

"Hey," a familiar voice greeted. Castiel froze, his shoulders drawn together as he hesitantly looked over to his left where Dean was seated. The boy gave him a charming smile. "I guess we're gonna be partners," Dean spoke, gesturing to the board where some page numbers were written down and questions were scrawled for the class to answer. Castiel looked around him, and saw that everybody was paired up with the person next to them.

Oh, no.

Noting that Castiel wasn't going to respond, Dean shifted slightly in his seat, seeming uncomfortable as his smile fell. "Uh, I'm-"

"Dean," Castiel muttered, locking eyes with the boy. "Dean Winchester," Castiel spoke, then automatically noticed the confused look on the boy's face. "You were in my homeroom," Castiel added quickly, feeling a blush crawl onto his cheeks as he flipped to the written page number in his book.

After a few seconds of silence, Dean cleared his throat. "So, uhm, what's your name?" he asked, trying to regain his cool and calm facade.

Castiel sighed as he pulled out his notebook. "Castiel," he answered without looking up. Glancing at Dean's empty desk, he spoke again. "You are going to need your book if you plan on attempting to answer these questions."

Dean gave a laid back smile, not at all insulted by Castiel's crudeness. "I don't have the book. Mind if I share?" he asked.

Castiel glanced at the new student, taking in his expression. He didn't seem particularly threatening, but Castiel wasn't going to let his guard down so easily. He nodded and placed the book on the left side of his desk, where Dean would have easy access to it.

Dean scooted his desk over to Castiel, practically closing him in, and grabbed the teen's notebook. He had reached across Castiel to obtain it, pulling out a pen from the pocket of his leather jacket. The dark-haired teen was shocked by Dean's forwardness, and couldn't help but note the musky and enticing pine scent that invaded his senses when the blond boy had moved over to grab Castiel's notebook. Dean smelled like a summer walk through a forest- like the trees that stretched to the skies. Momentarily dazed, Castiel blinked. " _What are you_ -"

"Question number one: 'What did the Soothsayer say to Caesar?' The answer is, of course, 'beware the ides of March'," Dean spoke as he scrawled the question and answer onto Castiel's notebook.

Castiel craned his neck to see Dean's writing, which was messy but admittedly very beautiful. Almost like cursive, it was small and slanted and looped in a carefree way. Licking his lips, Castiel spoke again. "Uhm, you don't have to answer the questions. I can take care of it," he offered. Normally when he was partnered up with people they either ridiculed him and forced him into doing the work or they'd flat out ignore him and he'd eventually stop trying to gain a response out of them and do the work himself, writing both their names at the end. The latter was normally with girls. Only the guys really bullied him. Girls just didn't really want to be seen talking to him.

"I don't mind," Dean answered, giving Castiel an honest smile that left him sort of taken aback. Dean had startlingly green eyes that Castiel couldn’t seem to look away from. "I already read this book in my last school. Well, we would watch the movie more than read, but I read it when I had the time at home."

Castiel's eyebrows drew together in a confused expression. Dean was not at all like what he expected. _But that doesn't mean he won't be later on_ , the voice in his head reminded him. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Castiel merely nodded, finally tearing away his gaze.

Dean continued to answer questions, turning to Castiel for confirmation every now and then. In seven minutes total, they were finished answering all twenty questions. Dean wrote his name on top of the sheet of paper, then turned to Castiel. "How do you spell your name?" he asked.

"C-a-s-t-i-e-l," Castiel answered him quickly. Dean scrawled it down.

"Last name?" He asked innocently.

"Novak. N-o-v-a-k."

Castiel felt a strange flutter in his chest at the sight of his name scribbled in Dean's handwriting.

"So, Castiel," Dean experimented with the name. "I've never heard that name, before. What does it mean?" Dean asked as he ripped out the notebook paper and handed the teen back his old and worn blue notebook.

Castiel took it and put it in his backpack. "I'll turn it in," he answered, purposefully avoiding Dean's question as he gestured to the paper. He didn't want to get close. He didn't want to get attached. It would probably be for nothing. Dean was mocking him, he was pretending to be kind to make fun of him. _Don't let yourself be fooled, Castiel_ , the voice in his head made sure to remind him.

Dean blinked, then handed the paper over. "Yeah, sure. Here you go."

Castiel took it, then made a motion for Dean to move his desk back so he could get out. Dean did so, and Castiel walked to the front of the room, his mind too preoccupied with thoughts of Dean's behavior for him to remember to avoid the usual foot sprawled in the isle purely for the purpose of tripping him.

Castiel tripped over the foot and caught himself before he could fall, trying to regain his nonchalant posture as he placed the paper on Mrs. Madison's desk, who was now standing up and telling the class to "hush up". His whole body was hot with embarrassment and he was more than sure his face was red as a beet as he listened to the lingering laughs of a few classmates. Castiel looked down at the floor as he made his way back to his seat and sat down, burying his red face in his book and trying to will away the ringing in his ears.

Dean didn't bother him for the rest of the class.

* * *

Castiel grabbed his lunch bag from his locker, putting it in his backpack and sliding that on. Just as he was about to close his locker, it was suddenly shut by another hand and he was harshly turned around and slammed against it.

His eyes locked on Alastair's cold dark blue ones, and Castiel repressed the urge to whimper with thought of what was to come.

"Hello, Cassie," Alastair taunted, followed by the laughs of his goons, which currently included Peter, Tom, and Walter. Castiel noted the familiar faces that backed up the menacing teen, and he licked his dry lips.

"Leave me alone, please," Castiel spoke softly, not daring to raise his voice any louder. A couple of kids had stopped what they were doing and were now watching the two with interest.

"But I just wanted to catch up," Alastair replied, eyes wide with mock innocence.

Castiel took in a shuddering breath, then closed his lips into a tight line. Just let them get what they want. _Get it over with_ , he told himself.

"Aren't really talkative today, are ya, Cassie?" Alastair asked, shoving Castiel harder against his locker. Something stirred up within Castiel, poking at his patience. He just wanted to go outside so he could eat in peace. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Alastair, especially since he had already been late to Chemistry and Trigonometry in his attempts to avoid the jerk.

Getting agitated, now, Castiel shoved Alastair away. " _Leave. Me. Alone_ ," he commanded before stalking off towards the stairs, heart beating loudly in his ears. He just needed to get to his lunch spot so he could be alone and safe. He had to get away before they caught up. Just as Castiel was halfway down the stairs leading to the first level of the school, strong hands shoved into his back, pushing him down the rest of the way. Castiel tumbled down, definitely bruising his rib cage and legs in his journey to the bottom of the staircase. When he reached the floor, he heard a voice call out to him among the ringing and blood pounding in his head.

"Geez, are you okay?" the voice asked.

Of course, it just _had_ to be him, Castiel thought as he saw Dean Winchester make his way over, trailed by Gordon. Castiel pushed himself up onto his arms. "I'm fine," he growled. He was lying, of course. He could already feel some of his cuts reopen and start to bleed through his sleeves as he tried to force himself onto his wobbly feet.

"Well here, let me help you," Dean offered, putting out a hand for Castiel to grab.

"Don't worry about him, Dean," Gordon's voice rang out as Dean, Gordon, and Castiel were joined by Alastair and his crew. Castiel managed to get on his feet just then, backing away.

Alastair placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder, squeezing uncomfortably. "Cassie is always falling around everywhere. He's a major clutz," Alastair spoke with a smile, acting as though he and Castiel were long time friends. It made him feel the dire need to vomit. "Novak's just fine, aren't you?" he hissed out with a smirk at Castiel, squeezing tighter. The blue eyed boy didn't respond, giving Alastair a steely glare.

"Let's go to the lunchroom," Gordon suddenly suggested as he lead Dean away, followed shortly by Alastair and the others. Dean turned his head back once to look at Castiel before he gave in and walked away with them, if not a little unwillingly.

Despite himself, Castiel felt a pang of remorse as the little bit of hope he had was smothered within him. Of course Dean was like the others. His whole charming personality was just an act. He would bully Castiel, just like everyone else.

Castiel was foolish to think otherwise.

**  
**


	3. Don't Get Too Close

When Castiel opened the front door to his home, he almost instantly sprinted back the other direction.

"Castiel," his father's voice rung out, clear and strong. "Get over here,  _now._ "

Feeling his heart thump rapidly and painfully against his chest and nausea start in his gut, Castiel walked into his house, abandoning his backpack at the door. Hiding from his father would only make the punishment worse, later on. He knew that for a fact. So he quickly made his way to the kitchen where Mr. Novak was holding a sheet of paper in one hand and a beer in the other, his face fuming with anger as he leaned over a counter, rage tensing his broad shoulders.

"What is this?" his father asked coolly, shoving the dull yellow paper right in front of Castiel's face so the teen had to blink to focus his vision on it. The boy quickly realized the problem when among the A's on his progress report, a C stood out like a sore thumb, right next to his math class.

Feeling his mouth go dry when he realized what was to come, Castiel swallowed back the large lump in his throat as his body tingled with adrenaline. "I-I'll bring it back up," he stuttered frantically. "It was just a bad test grade. I studied the wrong material, and-"

"W _e made a deal,_ " his father interrupted, reddened eyes filled with disgust and anger, his icy tone menacing, now. He had been drinking a lot. Castiel could smell the liquor on his breath, mixed with the scent of beer. His father was only violent when he drank. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Castiel looked his father in the eyes, preparing himself for the worst. "The only reason I haven't kicked you out is because you are going to get  _all A's_ so you can get scholarships for some fucking college that I don't have to end up paying a shit ton of  _my_  hard-earned money for! I'm being charitable! You should be happy I'm not going to kick you out, right now!" he began yelling, all cool and calm abandoned and replaced with white hot rage.

Before he could fully process it, his father's beer bottle was flying towards his head. Castiel dodged it, and he heard the distinct shatter of glass against wall. "I'm sorry!" Castiel cried out in fear, hoping to subdue his father's tirade. His shaking hands covered his head in defense as he forced himself not to close his eyes in fear that another object could be thrown at his head.

"I don't need a fucking apology," his father hissed. "You know the punishment," he reminded Castiel as the teen got back on his wobbly feet, backing away from his father who advanced on him anyways. "Until that grade is back up to an A, you can forget about me providing anything for you," his father threatened.

"Dad, please, I-"

A giant fist met Castiel's cheek and with a sharp crack of pain the boy was instantly on the ground, blinking stars out of his swimming vision. "I am  _not_  your father!" the taller man bellowed, and Castiel nodded frantically so as not to get hit, again. "Now go clean that mess up," Mr. Novak ordered with a slur as he pointed to the shattered beer bottle.

"Yes, sir," Castiel replied as he got back up and hurried over to the kitchen to retrieve a paper towel roll and wet sponge. He busily cleaned up the spilled beer and shards of glass, slipping one of the shards into his pocket when his father wasn't looking. After cleaning up the mess, he picked up his backpack, went to his room, and locked the door.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel slumped onto the floor and tried to stop the tears that ached to be shed, burning at the base of his throat when Castiel thought of all the things that made him a worthless and terrible son in his father's eyes. The voices wouldn't stop listing reasons, nagging at him about how awful he was and how he didn't deserve to live. Castiel took a deep breath, his bottom lip quivering as he bit hard onto it and felt his nose tingle and sting, the skin of his left cheek pulsing with pain. His grade was a 79. It'd take a lot of 100's to bring it up to an A, again. And he only had half a semester left. By the start of second semester the grades would all be back up to 100s and last semester's grades would be permanent on his transcript.

Fighting back the anxiety in his chest, Castiel rubbed his eyes furiously. He didn't feel like crying. He knew that if he cried he wouldn't be able to stop. Snifflling, Castiel slipped a hand in his pocket and fingered the sticky shard of glass that sat there. Distraction. He needed a distraction. Getting back up, Castiel headed to the bathroom to clean the piece of glass. He was going to need it if he wanted to get through the night.

What did a couple more cuts matter, anyway?

* * *

"So how does pizza sound, Sammy?" Dean asked as he pulled out his cellphone, ready to dial the number for a local pizza parlor.

Sam looked up from his Physics textbook at the dining room table and snorted. "Despite the fact we've had it for the last three days, yeah- sure, pizza sounds fine," he replied with a sarcastic tone.

So an hour later Sam and Dean were dining on two large pepperoni pizzas and working on their homework. But Dean found he had a hard time concentrating. His mind was too wrapped around Castiel.

Normally, when he came to a new school everybody wanted to be his friend and talk to him. Castiel seemed to almost hate Dean, and he had no idea why. The kid didn't seem like he was strange in any way. He looked normal enough, to Dean. That was until they talked. Castiel talked like an old English teacher rather than a sixteen year old student. Also, Castiel seemed to ignore every attempt of Dean's small talk. It was almost as if Dean had done something wrong to the scrawny kid.

But then there was Alastair. He had told Dean how he shoved Castiel down the stairs during their conversation at lunch. Dean didn't ask why and just went along with it, even throwing in a laugh for good measure. What did it matter to him if Castiel was being bullied? The dude was a jerk. He flat out ignored Dean during lit. and if he wasn't doing that he'd be throwing in an insulting remark.

So why wasn't Dean mad at him?

To be honest with himself, Castiel just didn't seem that... _mean_. It seemed more like he was defensive rather than rude. Maybe it had to do with the bullying...

Dean blinked and focused on his trigonometry. Why did he even care? It's not like he was going to grow attached to anybody, since they'd probably be moving again in a couple of months. So what if the boy he sat next to in literature had alluring, bluest-of-blue eyes that seemed to just ache for attention? So what if his surprisingly deep and gravelly voice seemed to falter and pick up with interest at one point in their conversation? So what if he had messy dark hair that just seemed too damn perfect to be real?

Dean couldn't care less.

* * *

Castiel peeled off his shirt with a wince, his bones and skin protesting against the action. Fingers fluttered over the right side of his rib cage as Castiel inspected the large purple and yellow discoloration that matted itself into his skin. He smirked at it and gave a laugh that instantly hurt to do. Castiel found that he could barely breathe properly, let alone laugh. It hurt his side too much. But, despite the pain, he felt... happy.

 _Good,_ he couldn't help but think as he saw how large the bruise was.  _I deserve it. I deserve the bullying and the bruises and the name calling. I deserve each and every scar and cut and wound on my arms. I deserve it all._

It was all his fault. It was all his fault. It was all his fault.

With shaky fingers, Castiel dragged the jagged glass across his arm one more time, holding back a whimper before tossing it into a bathroom drawer where it settled with his razor blade. Leaning over the sink counter, the young boy resisted the urge to pass out as he hissed in pain. His head was dizzy from the punch and he could feel a migraine coming on. He was pretty sure he hit his head when he fell down the stairs at school.

Castiel wearily lifted his head to look at his reflection in the mirror; the crimson that dribbled from his cuts stood out terribly on his pale skin, swollen and bleeding bright red blood. Driving his attention away from his arms, Castiel looked at his face in the mirror. His left cheek was already starting to bruise where his dad had punched him, the bruise covering the whole of his cheek and making its way to settle right beneath Castiel's eye. Not only was there a nasty looking bruise, but the skin was split over his cheekbone, as well, cut by the force of his father's knuckles pressing flesh against bone. It was extremely sore and it hurt to open his mouth or use any kind of facial muscle. But, strangely, Castiel felt that familiar enjoyment at the pain, deep within his stomach. No matter how much he despised being bullied by his peers and abused by his father, he couldn't help but feel as if he deserved it. He couldn't help but crave it.

It was all his fault.

Choking back a sob, Castiel walked out of the bathroom and to his room to finish his homework.

It was all his fault.

* * *

Castiel had wrapped up his arms, today. He didn't want a repeat of yesterday in case Alastair decided to shove him around some more. After his cuts reopened he had to spend most of lunch trying to stop the bleeding. He'd have to stop cutting for a couple of days to let them heal.

When Castiel walked into homeroom he saw Dean already chatting up Gordon, laughing cheerily at something they were talking about. He made his way to his seat and sank in it, trying to ignore two girls who pointed at him and whispered. Thankfully, no one else seemed to take note of the bruise on his cheek. It was probably because the homeroom was too busy paying attention to Mr. Dawson's announcement.

"Track-and-field tryouts will be after school today at the football field for anybody who's interested," he drawled on as he pulled out his attendance board. Castiel felt a pang of sadness in his gut. Before the accident, Castiel used to go running all the time. He'd always beg his mother to let him go to public school so he could try out for the team.

He never got to do that, in the end.

Castiel swallowed back the sob he felt form in his throat and waited in his seat after the bell rang again, taking his time to gather up his things before heading out into the halls.

He wasn't so lucky, this time.

Alastair caught him in the halls and pushed him into a locker, making Castiel drop all his books he held in his arms. Castiel immediately went on his knees to gather all of his things before he could lose them in the bustle of the halls, ignoring Alastair and his gang's boisterous laughter as they began to walk away.

"Geez, Castiel, you're such a clutz!" he called out, making a few people that walked by look over at the dark-haired teen and snicker, some purposefully kicking a few of his things out of reach.

Keeping his gaze to the floor, Castiel picked up the last of his things and walked off to class, unable to hold back a few tears that gathered in his eyes and the burning in his cheeks.

* * *

When he made it to class almost ten minutes late, Castiel tried to ignore Mrs. Madison's worried gaze when she caught sight of his face. But he couldn't ignore the whispering and laughing of his classmates. Those always seemed to fill his hearing. He glanced at Dean and noticed the green-eyed boy was looking at him with wide eyes.

Castiel sat down in his desk, and pulled out his book, trying to focus on reading and ignore the bright green eyes that gazed at him.

"I'm going to pass out a packet that I want you all to work on with your partners from yesterday," Castiel heard Mrs. Madison say. "I want you all to have it turned in by Friday this week," she instructed, making Castiel's heart stop.

No. No, no, no, no-

Dean's desk scooted over to Castiel's as he gave him a small smile, lifting up his packet. "Hey, partner," he greeted. Castiel ignored him and grabbed his packet from the floor when the girl sitting in front of him tossed it there. When he looked back at Dean he was shocked to see him giving the back of the girl's head a dirty glare.

Shaking his head and pulling out a pencil from his bag, Castiel began working. "If we work on this fast we can finish it early and then you won't have to spend the week working with me," Castiel spoke quickly, refusing to look at what expression Dean would have on his face.

"I don't mind working with you," Dean replied, making Castiel pause with shock and look over at him, involuntarily.

Their eyes met, and they stared at each other for what seemed like ten seconds, just gazing into each other's eyes, blue meeting green. Tearing his eyes away and clearing his throat, Castiel looked back at his packet. "Uhm, the answer for question number one is choice letter B," he spoke, circling the choice option.

Dean was silent for a few minutes.

A few minutes is the key phrase, here.

"So, uhm, Castiel," Dean began, making the dark-haired teen suppress the urge to sigh in his irritated mood. "Did... did that bruise on your cheek- was it Alastair?" he asked hesitantly, his shy tone obviously completely foreign and new to him. "I- uhm, he told me what he did... with the stairs-"

"No, it was not him. May we please just work?" Castiel interrupted, turning to look sternly into Dean's eyes.

Dean's eyes widened and he nodded, looking back down at his packet. It was only silent for a few seconds before he spoke up, again. "Then who did it?" he asked, looking back up at Castiel. "Was it Gordon? I can tell them to lay off-"

"It was not any of them," Castiel hissed. Obviously, Dean wasn't going to give up until he got some kind of answer. "I ran myself into a pole, alright? Now could you please focus?"

Closing his lips into a tight line, Dean went back to work.

They didn't speak again.

* * *

At the end of class, just as Castiel was about to walk out the door, Mrs. Madison called him over. He obliged, feeling his muscles tighten with anxiety. Why did she have to care?  _Why can't she just leave me be?_  he couldn't help but think as he walked over to her.

"Castiel," she whispered once the room was empty. She reached out a hand to his cheek, but stopped herself, putting her hand over her heart. "Darling, who did it?" She asked. "I know you don't like to tell, but I could have whoever did it suspended and you wouldn't have to-"

"It was not a student," Castiel mumbled, looking at the ground, trying to ignore the burning in his eyes.

The young teacher understood immediately. "Raphael," she breathed out. It was more of a statement than a question.

Castiel licked his lips, then drew them into a tight line as he looked off to the side, tears blurring his vision. He let out a breathy laugh, a bitter smile stretching his lips. "I do not mean to offend you, Mrs. Madison, but I am not in need of a counselor," Castiel informed her, locking eyes with her as he tried (and failed) to keep a stony expression. A few tears ran down his face, giving him away. Castiel resisted the urge to wipe them away.

Mrs. Madison stepped towards him, her dainty eyebrows drawn together and her large eyes sad. "Castiel, if someone is hurting you, you need to get some help. If not from me, then from  _someone_ ," the teacher pleaded. "You are worth more than this. Don't let anybody make you feel otherwise!"

Looking down, Castiel took a deep, shaky breath as he tried to control himself. It was silent for a moment. "I will be late for chemistry," Castiel whispered.

His teacher crossed her arms and let out a huff. "Of course. I'm sorry. I'll see you tomorrow, Castiel," she spoke, dismissing him.

The blue-eyed boy walked out of the room, letting a few more tears shed before he wiped them away.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Castiel, but I cannot assign extra credit," Mrs. Bates spoke. "If I were to grant you extra credit, then I'd have to give it to every other student, as well," the trigonometry teacher explained. At the hopeless look in Castiel's eyes, she leaned forward on her desk. "Just do well on the test. It's two weeks away, so you'll have plenty of time to prepare yourself. You already do all your homework and classwork, and you do fine on your quizzes, so those averages don't need to be pushed up all that much. You were scoring B's on your tests, which was what made your average an eighty-two. It was just that last test... If you need testing help, then just see me after school on Wednesdays and Thursdays."

"Mrs. Bates, you do not understand," Castiel spoke urgently, suppressing the tears in his throat and the burning gnawing of his stomach. "I  _need_  my grade up. I need it up as soon as possible."

The gray-haired teacher just sighed. "Just do well on the next few tests, Castiel. I'm sure you can raise your average back up to a B before the semester is over," she assured.

"I cannot end this semester with a B," Castiel replied, feeling panic climb its way up his throat. "I must have an A...  _please_ ," Castiel begged. He wished he could explain it to her. He wished he could tell her that if he doesn't get his grade up to an A, he will most likely starve and become homeless.

The math teacher raised her head and gazed at Castiel sternly. "I'm sorry, Castiel," she apologized, again. "Just do your best."

Biting his lower lip, Castiel nodded. "Yes. Alright, I will. I am sorry to have wasted your time," Castiel apologized, walking out of the room quickly. Two weeks... he could do that. He could try.

Hopefully he'd starve to death before the semester was over.

* * *

Gym class was hard enough for Castiel before, but now it was nearly impossible. First off, Dean was in that class, so that added to the giant group of people who enjoyed to harass Castiel for changing in the security of the showers instead of the open with the other guys. Well... Dean didn't really harass Castiel as much as go along with it and throw in a few laughs. Second, Castiel was only on his first day of his punishment and he was  _starving_. The peanut butter sandwich and apple he packed for himself yesterday seemed like heaven, now. Honestly, he'd eat anything.

It's been a good amount of time since he'd had the no food punishment, Castiel realized as he jogged on the track, listening to the sound of Coach Durley yelling at the girls to keep up the pace and stop whining. The punishment normally went along the lines of Mr. Novak ignoring Castiel more than usual, and cutting off Castiel from anything he could without being impractical. This included food. The last time Castiel had been starved was when he had made a B in U.S. History. That time only lasted for about a week and a half, though, and once it was done Castiel hungrily indulged himself in the half-assed meals his father made that he had never been so grateful for, before. 

It was cold now that it was the beginning of November. Leaves were starting to fall from their trees and the sky was turning gray. This made gym easier for Castiel now that he could wear his thin long sleeve shirt in comfort. He used to end up overheated and sick after gym class was over, but now he didn't have to worry about that. He could cover up his scars in peace.

A few of his classmates already aimed wrist-cutting jokes at him back in freshman year, but that trend died off in a couple of months, mostly because Castiel didn't fit their "emo-kid" physical description. He was quite thankful for that, because those jokes would often make him feel like such pure rot. Nobody ever saw his cuts. They only suggested that he performed such activities. It was quite scary how accurate they all truly were. Castiel did not know how much longer he'd be able to take just  _living_  as he walked back into the locker room, grabbing his clothes to change in the showers.

_You deserve it, you deserve it, you deserve it._

_It's your fault, it's your fault, it's your fault._

* * *

Dean had given up on trying to get friendly with Castiel, and it had only been his second day at trying. The kid was just so stubborn and so unwilling to let anybody in. It irritated Dean to the end of the earth!

But what bothered him most was the question that constantly nagged at his brain:

_Why do I care?_

Dean had never felt the need to help someone. He never needed to, because he told himself what happened to other people didn't matter- that it wasn't his business. The only people in his life that mattered were Sammy, his dad, and Uncle Bobby. Three people. That was easy. He could take care of three people. He didn't need more than that.

So why was he trying so hard to add more to his list? Why did he feel like Castiel was different.  _What made him so unique?_ What on Earth made that strange blue-eyed-boy the exception?

"Are you okay, Dean?" Sam asked from the passenger seat of the Impala as the two drove back to their condo. "You're... quiet," he noted.

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, I'm just thinking," Dean responded as he accelerated the car slightly, feeling the nagging need to go home and drink until he didn't care again. It had been a while since he had last gotten drunk, and now was the perfect time to pick it up again. There was John's bottle of whiskey in the cupboard that Dean hid behind cereal boxes...

"Well don't think too hard. You might hurt yourself," Sam joked, earning a slap on the back of the head from Dean.

But it did the trick, and Dean was smiling again. The need to drink slowly withered away as Dean put his eyes back on the road and turned on the radio. Things were normal right now. He had Sam next to him and he was driving his Baby. Everything was alright.

All he had to do was stay away from Castiel.

* * *

Castiel's day had been awful. Last night he couldn't find  _The Giver_ book in his backpack, and assumed he had lost it when Alastair had knocked over his things that morning. Now it was gone forever, and that had been enough to add three more cuts to his collection. To add onto that, Castiel had an intense panic attack that eventually led to no sleep and involved a whole lot of self-therapy to prevent himself from passing out from sheer exhaustion. His breathing pace had been incredibly rapid throughout the panic attack, and his heart felt as if it were going to burst. Once he started to feel dizzy, he knelt forward and put his head between his knees, trying to focus on calming his breathing until his vision stopped swimming. Then he resumed his regular curled up position on the floor in a corner of his room and sobbed relentlessly, muttering apologies to God knows what. That was about the time he retrieved his razor blade.

And now he was walking into his literature class (on time for the first time this week, although the consequence involved being tripped in the hallways and shoved into a locker), wishing to God that he could be anywhere else but  _here_. Mrs. Madison smiled at him and he gave her a nod as he went to his seat. He didn't bother glancing at Dean, who he could feel staring "subtly" at him.

Just as Castiel was about to take his seat, something caught his eye.

His book, undamaged and perfectly intact, sitting right on his desk.

Castiel couldn't help but let out a breath of relief as he sat down in his desk and picked up the book, feeling the paperback material with his fingertips and flipping through the pages to make sure none were missing. A small smile found its way to his face when he found everything in perfect condition, the happy gesture feeling foreign to his facial muscles. Looking up from his book, Castiel glanced to his left to see Dean looking at him. Their eyes met, and Dean turned away, looking down at his desk. No. It couldn't have been Dean. No, he was like the others.

_Right?_

It had to be Mrs. Madison. She had found it on the floor and returned it to Castiel. That was what happened.

_Right?_

* * *

At the end of class, after a long and awkwardly silent period of working with Dean on their packets, Castiel went to Mrs. Madison's desk to thank her for returning his book.

"Hello, Castiel," the teacher greeted him with a smile as she glanced at him from a stack of papers. "Do you need something?"

Castiel gave a small smile. "I'd just like to thank you for returning my book," he replied, pulling out the book from his backpack.

Mrs. Madison's eyebrows furrowed with confusion as she pushed aside the papers that she was looking through to give Castiel her full attention. "I didn't return your book to you," she answered.

Now it was Castiel's turn to look confused. "But it was on my desk... I don't know of anyone who would return it to me besides you," he protested, although he could think of someone who would. His brain was harshly denying that theory, though.

His teacher folded her hands into a steeple and leaned forward as she gazed into Castiel's eyes. "I seem to recall Mr. Winchester visiting your desk right before you came in... do you think he could have returned it to you?"

Castiel swallowed a lump in his throat. "No... no he wouldn't do that. He... he's friends with Alastair and-" Castiel cut himself off, gaze moving from Mrs. Madison down to the floor as he felt his heart beat move up to his throat. "Uhm, forget it," Castiel stammered. "I'll see you tomorrow," he told her with a forced smile as he made his way out the room.

Maybe there was more to Dean Winchester than Castiel thought.

* * *

It was Castiel's third day without food, now, and he could feel the effects on his body and mind. It was getting harder to study and focus in school, but he forced himself. He needed food. He needed it so badly. His stomach cried for it and his organs clenched in protest. But, of course, Castiel had to ignore it. As he walked into British literature, Castiel's eyes met with Dean's before he tore his gaze away, looking at the floor and stepping over the routine foot as he made his way to his desk. Castiel happened to notice that the usual water and other obstructions were not on his chair, and hadn't been for a while. He wondered if it had to do with Dean.

Dean Winchester. The strange boy was on his mind all night. Castiel had fallen asleep peacefully last night, put into a good mood with the knowledge that perhaps Dean had returned his book- that perhaps the green-eyed boy was not as bad as Castiel had predicted. All day yesterday Castiel had been thinking about Dean. He even realized that he was in a better mood, despite the pain in his hungry stomach.

It wasn't all comforting thoughts that ran through his mind, though. For most of last night Castiel had been thinking of ways to thank Dean for returning his book. He had pictured their conversation, imagining it over and over again in his mind until he began to panic and calmed himself to prevent an anxiety attack as negative thoughts tried to ruin his good mood.

Castiel had been working so hard to keep the "what if" questions at bay. He decided to just believe that Dean had indeed returned his book, and that maybe he wasn't that bad of a guy.

So when Dean moved his desk over to Castiel's so they could work on their packet (they were on the last page), Castiel cleared his throat before speaking up.

"Thank you for returning my book," Castiel muttered loud enough so Dean could hear. When the blond boy looked up at Castiel in surprise, he felt a blush creep onto his cheeks as he tried to quiet the voice in his head that told him it wasn't Dean. "Uhm, yesterday. The book on my desk. You returned it to me, am I correct?" Castiel asked, trying his hardest to keep eye contact with Dean instead of tearing it away and muttering broken apologies.

Dean smiled and laughed slightly, looking down at his desk, almost seeming embarrassed. "So you figured it out, huh?" he asked, looking back up into Castiel's eyes. "You're welcome," he replied with a smile that sent Castiel's heart fluttering for reasons he could not understand.

Castiel blinked, licking his lips before he looked down at his packet, writing down another answer. "May I ask where you found it?" he asked, glancing at Dean's desk, too afraid to look into his eyes.

"Alastair had it. He had nabbed it from the hallway or something, I don't know. He was, uh, reading something in it to the guys," Dean explained, seeming shy. "But he was... uhm, well, I guess there's a note or something written in the book, right?" Dean asked.

Castiel's blood went ice cold, and he looked up at Dean with horrified, wide eyes. "He read the note?" Castiel asked, his mouth going dry. "H-how many people saw it? Did he read it out loud?" Castiel asked, panic in his voice.

Dean's eyes went wide, his posture defensive as he studied Castiel. "Well, uhm, I don't know. There was only Gordon and Walter. I had gotten to lunch late when he was talking about it. I just heard him say something about a note," Dean reported. Castiel felt sick to his stomach, and automatically felt the need to vomit, although his stomach contents were empty. "Hey, are you okay?" Dean asked, leaning forward. "Geez, you look sick, dude," Dean observed.

Castiel swallowed down the bile he felt form in his throat. "I- it is nothing. Thank you for taking it from him," Castiel thanked, again.

That was the last conversation they'd have, for a while.


	4. Let Me In

It had been two weeks and a day since Castiel's punishment began. He had finished his packet with Dean the day they had their conversation about his book, and they really hadn't been in another conversation since. It depressed Castiel more than he'd like to admit, because every day that he would walk into British Literature he'd look over at Dean, hoping the green-eyed boy would give him a smile so he could try and return it for the first time. But that never happened. They'd make eye contact and it'd break after a couple of seconds, but that was as far as communication between the two went.

Castiel's trigonometry test was tomorrow, and he was desperately studying, trying to use the last of his brain power to cram information in his mind. He needed to pass. He was so hungry that at this point he caught himself contemplating eating leaves from a tree and grass from the school field. He didn't, of course. He decided that since the rest of him was a mess he might as well keep his dignity intact.

The only way that Castiel would be able to get food would be if he payed for it, himself. That was the punishment deal. But Castiel had no money, and no means of getting it. If he was going to be honest, he hardly saw how his father's punishment was suitable. But, of course, Castiel didn't voice his opinions. The last thing he needed was another punishment.

Castiel was still cutting himself regularly to distract from the hunger. His bruise on his rib cage still ached, but was healing, and the bruise on his cheek was only a light red now, almost completely healed. The only real problem was the hunger that he couldn't seem to do anything about. His father had locked up the food and refused to let Castiel in the kitchen for anything besides water, tea, or juice. When Castiel feebly tried to protest that he needed food in order to study properly, his father told him to go find something to eat somewhere else.

So Castiel resumed his starvation, feeling like his stomach was starting to digest itself in desperation for nourishment. His throat felt as though it was constantly opened wide- begging for food. He could feel his stomach acid burning inside of him, and Castiel tried his hardest to feed his aching body with some water from the school fountain and random candies and peppermints that he would get from teachers every now and then. His limbs were frail and weak, and quite frankly Castiel was surprised that they hadn't completely shut down yet. Perhaps it was the thought of the test he was soon to take that kept him going.

His grade was now back to an 82, thanks to two pop quizzes his class had been assigned (both of which he got 100's on). The only way he was still doing well in school was by making up for his lack of eating by excessive studying and sleeping. Also, whenever he found himself thinking about food he instead replaced the thought with things that depressed him to the point of making him too nauseous to crave nourishment.

That only lasted for so long, though.

It was Wednesday and that meant he had to run the track in gym. Running days were Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and the rest were indoor activities. Castiel managed it the past few weeks but now it was too much.

As Castiel jogged across the track, he could already feel himself gasping for breath and swerving involuntarily towards the field inside the track. That was when everything went black, and Castiel felt a bang on the back of his head that traveled around his skull and made his ears ring insistently.

The next thing he knew he was hearing voices.

"Novak! Novak, what the hell is wrong with you?" Coach Durley yelled, his voice going from hazy echoes to sharp and loud. Castiel's eyes blinked open, the light blinding him. His vision swam as he fought to understand what happened, unable to focus his eyes for more than two seconds before everything spun, again. Two coach Durleys were currently leaned over him, observing him as they swam along with his vision. Hands placed themselves on either side of his head as the brown eyes of the coach inspected him. "Damnit, he has a concussion," the coach reported to bystanders. "Alastair, get over here!" He ordered. In less than a second Alastair was by the coach's side. "You finished your laps? Take Novak to the nurse's office, tell her he has a concussion," he instructed.

Alastair smiled. "I'd be glad to, Coach," he obliged, picking up Castiel and slinging his still-cut arm around his shoulder. "Let's go, Cassie," he spoke cheerily as Coach Durley began to walk away, shooing the gathering crowd and threatening them with talk of giving them all zeros for the day.

"No," Castiel murmured, blinking his eyes in his attempt to keep them open as a wave of fatigue consumed him. He couldn't help it as his body leaned into Alastair's, too weak to keep himself up.

"Coach! Coach, I'll take him!" Castiel heard a familiar voice volunteer. "Let me help take him!"

"You've still got one lap, Winchester," the coach pointed out. "Get back to running!"

Alastair's arm tightened around Castiel's waist, fingers digging into his side as he practically dragged the skinny boy out of the field and to the back of the school. "What do you say, Novak? You wanna go to the nurse's office?" he mocked, giving a laugh.

"Let go of me," Castiel croaked, his voice hoarse. "Leave me alone," he ordered as he tried at pathetic attempts to release himself from Alastair's grasp, twisting and turning and trying not to pass out again. But he was too hungry and weak, and Alastair more than likely had a hearty lunch the period before.

"I'm just taking you to the nurse!" Alastair defended sarcastically. When they were by the dumpsters, Alastair let go of Castiel, shoving him down onto the floor where he hit the giant, garbage-filled tin boxes. "There you go! See you later, Cassie!"

And with a laugh, Alastair was gone.

Castiel tried to get up but his muscles were too weak and his head was too dizzy and  _he couldn't see properly_. Everything around him was spinning, making him want to throw up as acid climbed up his throat. He settled with closing his eyes until his concussion settled down and he could move. It was incredibly cold outside, and Castiel had to curl into himself in the bite of the icy air to try and keep warm as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

 _I hope I die here_ , Castiel thought to himself.  _I hope that nobody ever finds me and I just rot and die here_.

Castiel wanted nothing more than for the pain to end and relief be granted to him. His head pulsed with headache, his stomach burned with ache for food, his muscles were like jello, and his cuts seemed to sting more than ever before.

 _Maybe this is my last day on Earth_ , Castiel mused, his thoughts jumbled in his numb brain.

"Castiel?" he heard a voice call out.

Was he imagining it? Had he finally gone insane? Or was somebody actually looking for him?

"Castiel, are you here?" the voice called out, again.

Castiel tried to moan out to the voice, tried to reach it, but suddenly everything went black.

* * *

When he woke up again, it was to his name being shouted at him and his cheek being patted roughly. "Castiel! Open your eyes, damnit. Come on I need your help, here. I can't drag ya in," the rough voice ordered.

Castiel blinked his eyes open and his vision instantly focused on intense green. "That's it. Come on, buddy. Up, now," Dean Winchester ordered, grabbing Castiel's arm and hauling him up.

Castiel whimpered in pain as Dean's hands tightened on his cut arms. "Let go, leave me alone," he couldn't help but whine as he tried to use his legs to stand up on his own so Dean would loosen his grip. But his knees buckled, which only caused Dean to tighten his hold.

"No way, you stubborn bastard. We gotta get you inside and into a jacket or something or you're gonna die out here. Come on," Dean commanded as he slung Castiel's arm around his shoulder and put a strong, warm and muscled arm around Castiel's waist, just as Alastair had done. But Dean's touch was different. It was protective and supportive and warm. It calmed Castiel and urged him to use his wobbly legs.

He couldn't recall the last time someone touched him in such a kind and gentle way. 

"There you go, good job," Dean complimented as he led Castiel into the school. "We're gonna go to the locker room and grab your things and I'm gonna take you home, okay?"

Castiel shook his head. "I cannot skip. Stop, take me to the locker room. I will be alright," he murmured, using all his energy to form a coherent sentence.

"Fuck that, man, it's already seventh period. I couldn't leave class to get you until I got Alastair to tell me where he put you," Dean explained to the dark-haired boy. "You can't go to class like this, anyways," Dean added when Castiel tried to argue. That shut him up. Dean was right,of course. He was in no condition to stay.

They were in the school, now, and the warmth of it made Castiel's cold skin shiver and his bones ache. He didn't try to speak again until they reached the indoor gym, mostly because he couldn't. When they made it to the locker room, Dean sat Castiel down on the bench outside of it.

"What's your locker combination?" Dean asked as he steadied Castiel, who was blinking away sleep. Dean's hands gripped harder onto Castiel's upper arms. "Come on, man, don't pass out on me. What's your combo?"

Thinking hard, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted with the effort, Castiel searched his mind for the three numbers. It took a while. Once he thought he had the numbers they'd slip away or get jumbled up. Dean was patient, though, and gazed into Castiel's unresponsive eyes until he answered. "Two, thirteen, fourty-two," Castiel recalled.

"Alright, stay here. I'm gonna grab your stuff," Dean ordered, to which Castiel nodded weakly.

Castiel leaned back on the wall the bench sat against, trying his hardest to stay conscious and not close his eyes. This had to be a dream. There was no way Dean would do all this for him. He was imagining this whole thing. He'd wake up and still be outside near the dumpster.

A few minutes later, Dean came out of the locker room with Castiel's clothes, backpack, and books. He slipped Castiel into his jacket and stuffed his day clothes and textbooks into his already-filled backpack, zipping it tight around the materials. He looked Castiel in the eyes and his own filled with worry. "Dude, you look awful..." he noted, making Castiel smirk humorlessly.

"Thanks," Castiel breathed out, making Dean smirk then straighten up a bit.

"Castiel, when was the last time you ate something?" Dean asked hesitantly, observing Castiel's facial features.

"Two weeks," Castiel murmured, involuntarily. He couldn't help himself. His mind was too jumbled and he couldn't think straight.

Dean's eyes widened with shock as he stood up instantly and sputtered before finding words to say. " _Two weeks?_ " he repeated incredulously. "Why the hell haven't you eaten anything in two fucking weeks?!" Dean exclaimed, eyes seeming angry and confused and upset all at the same time.

Castiel knew he should feel panicked and scared, but for some reason he didn't. "I can't," he whispered, making Dean tense. "I'm not allowed," he admitted.

Dean's mouth opened, then closed, and then opened again, but nothing came out. Eventually, Dean licked his lips and spoke. "That's it," announced. "We're getting you three cheeseburgers and fries, and you're eating  _every last damn bite_ , y'hear me?" Dean asked, looking Castiel in the eyes. The boy didn't respond, trying to focus on staying awake. He didn't even process what Dean was telling him. " _Cas_ ," Dean warned.

"It's Castiel," the blue-eyed boy corrected, making Dean roll his eyes before shutting them and running a hand down his face.

"Let's go.  _Now_ ," Dean ordered.

After he had double checked that he had all of Castiel's things and Castiel had begun to warm up inside his navy blue jacket, Dean swung Castiel's bag onto his shoulders and lifted up the boy, again. Castiel stood on his feet, his arm around Dean's shoulder as he helped as much as he could to bring his limp body to Dean's sleek black car out in the parking lot.

"You don't have to do this," Castiel muttered as Dean slipped into the driver's seat next to him.

"Do me a favor and shut up, Cas," Dean countered, making Castiel close his lips into a tight line as he looked out the window, watching the school disappear as they drove away.

"Why are you helping me?" Castiel couldn't help but ask after they had been driving for a few moments. The car ride had been silent, and Castiel felt an awkward tension in the air. There wasn't even the comfort of music playing to fill the silence. And Dean seemed like a music person. It was all very strange and off-putting.

Dean didn't respond at first, and Castiel looked over at the blond boy to see if he had heard him. Castiel was starting to think that maybe he had imagined speaking when Dean finally answered him.

"Because you're different," Dean replied, advancing the car's speed as he kept his forest-green eyes on the road, his lips puckered in a serious sort of pout, like he had more to say that he wasn't saying. "Because I'm tired of seeing you treated the way you are. Nobody deserves to be pushed around like that. Not even a stubborn son of a bitch like you," Dean joked, looking over at Castiel with a humorless smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed. He was still confused as to why Dean would waste his time with him, but he decided to drop it since he was much too tired and disoriented to even care at the moment.

Eventually they pulled up into the drive-through of a fast food restaurant that Castiel didn't bother to pay attention to. The next thing he knew, Dean's hand was shaking his shoulder in an attempt at waking him up. The car was parked in the driveway of a nice condo, and Castiel had to take a moment to recall the day's previous events, his mind a jumbled mess. "Where'm I?" Castiel slurred, blinking his eyes as he tried to stop them from blurring. He tried sitting up, but ended up just flailing awkwardly in his seat.

"My house," Dean answered as he moved his hand to push against Castiel's chest and still him. When Castiel stopped moving and calmed down the smell of burgers and fries filled Castiel's nose almost instantly. His stomach growled quite ungracefully with it's impatience, and Castiel felt his cheeks heat. Dean raised an eyebrow. "You really weren't kidding, were you? I'll be right back," he promised as he got out of the car, carrying the food inside then coming back to grab Castiel's backpack and haul the dark-haired teen out.

"For a skinny guy you weigh a ton, Cas," Dean commented as he brought Castiel into the condo and shut the door behind him.

"I believe that is because I am mostly dead weight at the moment," Castiel replied sarcastically, forcing every word out, making Dean let out a breathy laugh.

"Alright, here'ya go," Dean coaxed as he helped Castiel sit down on a plush, worn out couch. Castiel's back settled against an armrest and his legs criss-crossed to keep him sitting up, although he still sagged with fatigue, gripping onto the couch to steady himself. The blue-eyed boy almost instantly felt his eyes start to roll to the back of his head. "Stay awake, Cas. You gotta eat then take some medicine before I'm letting you doze off," Dean told him.

So Castiel focused on keeping his eyes open. Dean left, and just as soon he was back at the couch with Castiel, holding bags of fast food. The smell enveloped Castiel's senses, and his stomach growled louder than before. Castiel felt his face flush again and Dean laughed. He pulled out a large cup of fries and handed one of the fried potato sticks to Castiel. "Start out small. You're body is probably going to reject food a little since it's not used to it, so the smaller you start out with the better," Dean advised.

Castiel nodded and took the fry. He already knew that, but he wasn't about to admit it and let Dean know that he's starved before (he wasn't even going to wonder how Dean knew what it's like to go hungry). So Castiel took a bite out of the fry, feeling his stomach revolt and acid climb up his throat. Castiel must have looked sick to his stomach, because Dean leaned forward in concern. "Take it easy, Cas," he instructed. Although Castiel's body was rejecting the food, his taste buds were practically screaming with joy, and he automatically began to drool. Putting the back of his hand against his mouth, Castiel mumbled an apology as his face heated up terribly with embarrassment. Dean just smiled and handed Castiel a napkin.

"Don't apologize, man. You haven't eaten in weeks. Go ahead, try again," Dean insisted.

So, very slowly, Castiel ate the rest of the fry. It took what seemed to be five minutes just to eat it and not throw up, but Dean was patient, forest green eyes studying him concernedly. Castiel gagged occasionally, and his stomach tightened in protest whenever he tried to eat. It was the most painful thing he had done in a while. It felt as if all his insides were begging for something that they strongly rejected once it was brought to them. His body was confused and sick and Castiel honestly felt like giving up. If it hadn't been for Dean, he might have.

"Just don't think about it too much, alright?" Dean advised as he handed Cas another fry.

This time Castiel finished it in less than five minutes.

Soon, he was munching on the whole cup of fries while Dean smiled satisfyingly. When he finished it, Dean handed him another cup, which he ate faster, this time. After his second large cup of fries, Dean handed him one of the three cheeseburgers he bought. "Think you can handle this, yet?" Dean asked, eyes careful.

Castiel smiled shyly and took the burger, gratefully. "Yes, I believe so," he responded. He unwrapped the burger halfway and looked at it for a bit. This had to be a dream. All this food was too good and Castiel was too happy and he was sitting here in Dean's home and Castiel didn't feel the least bit like cutting. It was a happiness he hadn't felt in years.

With that thought in his mind, Castiel bit into his burger, and he felt his eyelids fall closed as he couldn't help but let out a satisfied moan that Dean laughed at. The tang of pickles and mustard filled his taste buds; the rich and savory taste of meat enveloped him; the sudden sweetness of mayonnaise, ketchup and bread soothed his hungry stomach. Castiel hadn't had anything like it in years. It had been so long since he's eaten anything besides ramen, pastas and peanut butter sandwiches, so this meat (fried in all it's unhealthy glory) was like a delicacy. His father rarely cooked anything that took too much effort, unless there were guests. Even then, he didn't allow Castiel to stick around long enough to sample it.

Memories instantly flooded back to him. Eagerness as he held himself back from opening a paper bag filled with cheap fast food. His mother's voice happily chimed in his hearing as she told him they were almost there. The cassette player was on, playing the smooth jazz and classical music she loved ever so much. It was mostly the classical music she'd listen to on these days. She loved the sound of violins softly singing, the deep echo of a strong cello supporting the harmony of stringed instruments. This was the music she loved to listen to on the sunsets they'd spend together. Castiel could feel the cool evening wind whipping at his face as he rolled down the window to the passenger seat of the van, even though he knew his mother protested, saying it'd ruin her hair. He never thought it did. Her hair was messy anyways; it was beautiful and long and light brown, glowing red as the setting sun would catch on it. She often just let out a fake exasperated sigh as her son would roll down the window to let in the bustling wind, drowning out the smell of burgers as the light hunger in his stomach calmed. But she was never angry with him. She loved him, her bright blue eyes proved it with the laughter wrinkles that cradled them, settling just at the start of her dark eyelashes. The smell of the fresh grass and wood chips of the park they always visited overcame him, now. Eating burgers and fries with his mother on the grass on Sunday afternoons after church, the dew seeping through his finest dress pants, the grass often staining it... Castiel instantly felt nostalgic bliss overtake him, and when he opened his eyes he felt tears gather in them. A tear ran down his cheek before he could stop it, and Castiel set the burger down to wipe at the prickling sensation in his eyes.

"Cas?" he heard Dean speak softly. "Cas, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern that Castiel hadn't heard from another person in years (besides Mrs. Madison). He felt his heart warm and swell at the memories, and at Dean's voice. For the first time in a long time, Castiel didn't feel scared. He felt truly happy. And for once, these weren't tears of sadness that he cried.

Castiel offered Dean a smile. "Nothing," he managed to choke out, his gravelly voice smooth and yet subtly shaking with practiced calm. "It's just..." he began as he picked up the cheeseburger and laughed. "These make me very happy," he explained, taking another bite.

Dean gave a confused smile, but he found a strange stirring in his stomach at Castiel's smile, so he let it slide. "Well I'm glad you like them," Dean replied as he handed Castiel an very large Coke. Castiel smiled and accepted it, mumbling a thank you as he took a long draw from the sugary, bubbly drink.

"I'll pay you back, Dean," Castiel began. "I promise," he added, although he wasn't sure how he'd be able to do that, since his father wouldn't allow him out of the house long enough to obtain a job.

Dean waved a hand, dismissing the comment. "Nah, don't worry about it. How about you stop ignoring me in lit. class and we call it even?" Dean suggested, making Castiel laugh with embarrassment.

"Deal," he agreed, smiling sheepishly.

Soon Castiel finished his meal (giving Dean one of the cheeseburgers and large fries, since the very-full-teen swore if he "ate any more his stomach would burst"), and when all the food was gone Dean hopped off the couch to throw away the trash, coming back with two ibuprofen tablets and a glass of water. "Here," he offered, handing them to Castiel. "To get rid of the headache you probably have," Dean explained.

Castiel nodded, and accepted the pills and water, downing them both. He instantly felt sleep make its way into his head, and he tried to keep his eyelids open. Castiel hadn't been this full in so long. He couldn't remember the last time that he couldn't eat another bite. Dean noticed Castiel's drowsiness and smiled. "You can take a nap if you want. I gotta go pick up Sammy," Dean spoke as he threw Castiel a pillow from an armchair. "I'll be back in a few," Dean promised as he picked up his keys from the living room table. "Try and get some rest," Dean instructed.

Castiel obliged, letting his head fall back as he sprawled out on the couch.

Sleep instantly took him.

* * *

When Dean picked up Sam, he gave him a big smile. "Hey, Sammy!" he greeted him as the younger sibling slipped into the passenger seat.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You're in a good mood," he noted as he buckled his seatbelt. "What's got you so cheerful?" Sam asked, looking at Dean with curious green eyes.

Dean shrugged. "Nothing. Is being happy a crime?" Dean retorted as he started the car and began driving them home.

Sam gave a snort as he smirked. "No, that's not what I meant. It's... strange, I guess," Sam admitted, shrugging.

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's just a nice day. C'mon, why do I need a reason to be in a good mood?" Dean answered. "Anyways," he began before Sam could respond. "I've got a friend over," Dean began to tell Sam. Friend... Castiel was his friend, right? "He's not feeling too good so I'm letting him crash on the couch for a bit," Dean explained as they neared their neighborhood.

The brown-haired boy raised an eyebrow. "So that's what's got you so happy," he realized with a smile. Dean blushed, trying not to look at his little brother. Sammy always insisted that Dean should make a close friend. He didn't like seeing him lounge around the house by himself while Sam went out with friends, Dean supposed. Dean had never been one to get close to people, though. He normally just went to parties and maintained a popular status, calling that his "social interaction". It was silent for a few minutes. Then Sam spoke, again. "Since when do you bring friends over, anyways?" he asked, not giving up on the subject.

"Jesus, Sam," Dean breathed out as he parked in their driveway. "I don't know, is it against the rules or something?" he retaliated, feeling irritated.

Sam held back a laugh. "Alright, alright, no need to get defensive, Bitch," the younger sibling responded with a grin as he got out of the car, clearly pleased with the reverse in their insults. "Bitch" was normally Dean's line, but he let it slide as he stepped out of the car.

Dean smirked. "Jerk," he replied, following his brother to the front door. They walked into the house to find Castiel fast asleep on the couch, curled into himself like a cat in sunlight, snoring lightly. Light streaming in from the window caught on Cas's frame, highlighting the brown in his hair and the structure of his sharp jaw. Dean felt his heart beat faster, and dismissed the strange feeling.

"That him?" Sam asked as he put his backpack on the dining room table. "What's his name?"

Dean sat at the dining room table with Sam after tossing a blanket onto Cas. "Castiel. He's in my lit. class," Dean explained. "He's a nerd like you, so you two will get along great," Dean said with a cheeky grin.

Sam laughed humorlessly, then got up from the dining table to go to the kitchen. "We got anything to eat? I'm starving," he stated as he searched through the freezer.

"There should be some hotpockets somewhere in there," Dean called to him distractedly as he pulled out his homework from his backpack, deciding to get to work on it.

"Dude, you got  _Burger King?_ "

* * *

Two hours passed while Sam and Dean studied, and soon they heard the patter of shoes enter the kitchen. Dean looked up to see Castiel with a hand on one side of his face, covering one of his eyes as he blinked sleepily. His messy hair stuck up everywhere and his blue sweater hung loosely on his slender frame.

Dean couldn't help but feel his breath catch in his throat. For some odd reason, he wanted so badly to run his fingers through Castiel's dark hair at that moment and smooth down the strands that stuck up. Blinking, Dean shook the thought out of his head and swallowed, looking back down at his textbook as he copied vocabulary definitions for History. "How you feeling, Cas?" he asked as he glanced at the blue-eyed boy, who squinted at him and gave a soft smile.

"Better, thank you," Castiel mumbled. His gaze wandered over to Sam and his eyes widened slightly. "Oh," he gasped out, his hand falling from his face.

Sam smiled. "Hey," he greeted with a wave. "I'm Sam," he introduced himself.

"Sam's my little brother," Dean clarified.

Castiel gave a smile. "Nice to meet you, Sam," he replied, then looked down at his clothes, seeming embarrassed. He was dressed in his gym sweatshirt, a jacket, old sweatpants, and dirty sneakers. "I'm not decent," he reported shyly while looking back up apologetically.

Sam gave a laugh. "It's fine, you're still dressed better than Dean on his best day," Sam joked. Dean threw his pencil at him, earning a " _Hey!"_

Castiel laughed, and Dean froze for a second. It was the most genuine laugh he'd heard from Cas, yet, and it made the teen look like a completely different person. His head tilted downwards when he laughed, body bent ever so slightly forward as his blue eyes squinted and crinkled with laughter lines that seemed hardly used. But the best part was his smile. Castiel's lips stretched wide to reveal a beautiful, flawless set of teeth, his grin cradled with a set of shallow laughter lines. Dean felt himself blink away his shock, his heart launching itself into his throat. What the hell was going on his his observation skills today? Suddenly, Cas's phone vibrated and his smile was wiped off in an instant as he dug into his pocket, a worried expression making its way onto his face.

"Excuse me," he apologized as he left the room.

Sam looked at Dean quizzically, and the blond just shrugged. They continued on their work, but Dean tried to secretly listen to Castiel's call. All he could hear was a low muttering and a couple of "yes sirs". Who could be on the other line that could make Cas look so scared?

Castiel entered the room again, looking back to his reserved self. It made Dean's heart sink low in his chest. The teen's head was tilted slightly forward with what seemed like sadness, his shoulders drooped as he gazed at the floor. However, he kept his facial expression fairly neutral, as if he were used to pretending to be fine. "I must be heading home," Castiel told them, giving the Winchesters a small smile as he gazed up at them. "Thank you for everything, Dean. I will see you, tomorrow," Castiel told him as he turned to head out, picking up his backpack at the doorway where Dean had placed it.

Dean automatically stood up. "Wait, lemme drive you," Dean offered.

Castiel looked slightly hesitant, glancing from Dean to the floor, his hand on the doorknob. "I'm alright with walking," Castiel insisted as he met Dean's eyes, honesty lacing them.

"Nuh uh, no way you're walking home when it's this dark," Dean responded as he made his way to the door, reaching for the doorknob as Castiel's hand moved away. Dean pushed open the door. "Let's go," he ordered, making Castiel sigh.

He turned to give Sam a smile, "Nice meeting you," Castiel spoke.

Sam smiled back and waved a goodbye. "See ya."

* * *

When they pulled into Castiel's driveway, Dean repressed the urge to comment on it. The house was beautiful, brick, and huge. Castiel seemed to notice Dean's astonishment, because he spoke up.

"Take my word for it, it's not as beautiful on the inside as it is on the out," Castiel told him with a light laugh that Dean couldn't help but feel like had more meaning to it.

"It's... it's a  _really_ nice place," Dean admitted, gaping at it.

Castiel shuffled awkwardly. "Thanks for everything, Dean," Castiel spoke softly. "I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, man," Dean replied. He suddenly felt the strange need to keep Castiel in the car with him. He wanted to tell him to stay and not to go inside. For some reason, Dean didn't trust the house or Castiel's father (which he was guessing was on the phone with Castiel). I mean, what kind of a father doesn't even notice that their kid hasn't eaten in  _two damn weeks?_  "Cas-" Dean began.

"I like that," Castiel interrupted, a sad smile on his face.

Dean looked over at him. Castiel was staring at the ground of the car, seeming lost in thought. "Pardon?" Dean asked.

"I like that nickname... Cas..." Castiel clarified. "I haven't really had a nickname, in a while," Castiel admitted.

Dean felt his heart flutter. "Are you alright?" Dean asked when he noticed Castiel's eyes appeared wet. There was something wrong. He could hear it in Castiel's voice.

Castiel nodded, and picked up his backpack. "I'm fine, I'll stop keeping you from home. I'll see you in literature. Thank you for the drive," Castiel spoke quickly, getting out of the car before Dean could think to utter a word.

And he watched Castiel walk into the house, feeling a sick twist in his stomach as he suppressed the urge to run in there after him.

After a few minutes, Dean pulled out of the driveway and drove back home.

* * *

A giant fist connected beneath Castiel's right eye and he let out a yell of pain as the headache in his skull screamed with protest. "You fucking  _skipped!_ " Castiel's father's booming voice yelled out, vodka prominent on his being. "You don't answer your fucking phone!" he added as shoved Castiel roughly, pushing the boy backwards. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!" his father yelled, kneeing him in the stomach and sending the teen to the floor where he tried to gain his breath. "Get the fuck up!" he ordered.

Castiel coughed in protest and brought himself up on shaky legs as he wheezed in shallow breaths of air, feeling tears already make their way down his cheeks. "You can hit me all you want," he croaked. "Nothing you do is going to ruin my day," Castiel taunted, making his father's nostrils flare in anger before he punched Castiel again on his healing cheek, sending him back down with a cry.

"You're a fucking worthless piece of garbage," his father grumbled. "What the hell made you think you could skip school?" he yelled, enraged.

"I was sick," Castiel whispered as he got back up on his wobbly legs. "I passed out in gym, I have a concussion and-"

"I don't need your excuses," his father hissed, shoving the teen back. "You're pathetic. Get out of my face before I decide on an even worse punishment," his father told him. Castiel scrambled to pick up his bag and run to his room. When he got there, he felt nausea come over him and he ran to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet, his head screaming with pain and his ears drowning the noise of his vomiting with its high pitched ringing.

When he managed to calm his stomach, Castiel panted as he sat and leaned against the toilet, trying to calm his nausea. He eventually overcame it, flushed the toilet, and went to the sink to brush his teeth and rid himself of the bitter taste of puke in his mouth.

Finishing off with mouthwash, Castiel took a quick shower to lessen his headache and soothe his acid-burned throat, then went to do his homework. He tried to drown his thoughts of Dean with thoughts of the trigonometry test, tomorrow, but he couldn't help but let his mind wander. He let himself think about the strange warmth Dean brought him, the tingling in his stomach and the way he'd get flustered around him. Castiel had never felt these feelings before, and it overwhelmed him. What could they possibly be? What was Castiel feeling? What did it _mean?_

His arms itched to be cut, used to the feel of razor digging into his skin when his emotions were too difficult to handle, like this. But Dean didn't make Castiel want to cut. It was different types of emotions he brought the dark-haired teen. They were feelings of hope and happiness and friendship.

So Castiel just scratched at his arms to rid them of the itching, reopening a few wounds by accident as he tried to study. He needed to pass this test. Dean made him want to try hard at his life again, and this was how he'd do it. He'd get all A's, again. He'd please his father, and he'd see Dean at school. Things would be okay... things would be normal.

Please let things be normal.

 _But it's your fault_ , the voice reminded him.

_It's all your fault._


	5. New Friends

Castiel woke up with a hammering headache, the screech of his alarm clock worsening it. His neck was sore and and the pain traveled down his spine in an electrifying heat. When he sat up in bed, Castiel let out a moan of pain. His body was cramped up and he could barely move his muscles. Taking deep breaths to release the tension in his body, Castiel turned off his alarm clock and swung his legs over the side of the bed, contemplating if he was really in good enough shape to make it to school, today. He honestly didn't feel like walking the three mile trek. Getting beat on by his dad sounded better than walking, right about now. And there was no way he'd take the bus, unless he wanted to get picked on and find a wad of gum in his hair this early in the morning.

Yeah, he'd walk.

So Castiel threw on a grey v-neck, pulling on a worn navy blue, wool cardigan over it. The sleeves were long, and Castiel balled them over his fists, shivering from the warmth he received. He slipped on his jeans and shoes and laid his jacket over his backpack, since he could already feel the temperature had dropped even more, outside. When Castiel walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth, he groaned at his reflection. His right eye was outlined in a purpled bruise that cradled the blue orb, making it's way to the edge of his ear. His bruised cheek bone (which had just started to disappear) was now re-bruised. It wasn't as bad as before, but Castiel was quite upset. As if his face honestly needed any more flaws.

Sighing, Castiel brushed his teeth and went back into his room to put on his jacket and backpack. He threw a quick prayer, and listened for his father's snoring, pleased when he caught it coming from the bedroom, rather than the living room. Castiel quickly walked out of the house before he could wake him. Despite his anxiety towards taking his trigonometry test today, Castiel felt a small sliver of excitement.

And he continuously tried to tell himself it wasn't because of Dean Winchester.

* * *

Castiel got to homeroom before Dean, and took his usual seat. He was relieved Dean wasn't here yet, because he wasn't sure what he would have done if he were. Would they sit next to each other? Would they talk? Would they just make eye contact and smile? Or would things go how they always went?

He did  _not_ want to be the one to make the first move.

Castiel felt his stomach twist in nervousness, and he pulled out a book to read so he could distract himself. He had read about three pages when a voice interrupted him.

"Hey, Cas," Dean greeted as Castiel heard the slight thud of Dean sitting on a plastic blue chair.

The dark-haired boy looked up, shocked, and turned to face Dean, who was seated in the empty seat at Castiel's right. Dean's smile instantly fell and his face grew dark as he leaned forward. His green eyes observed Castiel, flickering over his facial features. Dean balled his fists, seeming to want to reach out to Castiel, but not sure how. "Who did it?" he asked, not even giving Castiel the chance to return his hello.

Confused, Castiel tilted his head to the side as he gazed at Dean. Then he remembered, and his eyes went wide. Dean was referring to the bruise. Castiel sighed, not looking forward to this conversation. "Dean," he began.

"Was it Alastair? Gordon? Who was it, Cas?" Dean asked, seeming ready to get up and wail on Gordon, who was sitting not too far from him. "I swear to God-"

" _Dean_ ," Castiel spoke louder, catching the blond boy's attention. "It wasn't any of them. Look," he murmured, pointing to the bruise. "It's already completely settled. And look at where it is. It's light, and doesn't even reach my eye. A bruise that light would take hours to form. I promise it wasn't them, I just got here a half hour ago," Castiel explained. Dean seemed unconvinced, and a little suspicious at Castiel's knowledge of bruise formations.

"Who was it, then?" he asked desperately, his eyes searching Castiel's.

Cas swallowed back a lump that suddenly formed in his throat. He knew he'd have to lie to Dean. He knew he'd have to, and he knew he'd regret it. "Last night," Castiel began, making sure he didn't break eye contact with the green eyes that watched his every move, waiting for a hint that he was lying. "I passed out when I got home. Probably from the concussion, I suppose," Castiel suggested with a shrug. "I-uhm, I fell and smacked my face on the bed frame," Castiel explained, feeling like he wanted to vomit, again. Dean seemed like he wanted so badly to believe in Cas's story. He was trying so hard not to draw conclusions. He didn't want to believe Castiel was lying. "It was my fault," Castiel told him. At least that much was true.

_It's all your fault._

He was used to telling himself that.

Dean seemed very skeptical, but he settled back down in his seat. "Cas, I swear, if you're bullshitting me..." he began, then reworded himself, sighing and closing his eyes. He quickly ran a hand down his face before opening his eyes and speaking, again. "You don't have to lie to me, alright? Hell, I know we just met or whatever, but you can trust me. You know that, right?" he was whispering- eyebrows drawn together and green eyes intense- now that some of the homeroom was paying attention to them. There was so much sincerity in his voice that Castiel felt even guiltier than he already was.

"Yes. I know."

* * *

"Gettin' awful friendly with Novak, aren't you?" a sleazy voice asked, making Dean let out a sigh before closing his locker and facing the culprit.

"What does it matter to you?" Dean countered, keeping his voice smooth and steady as he squinted his eyes at the teen and set his lips into an angry pout.

Alastair uncrossed his arms, putting them at his sides as he balled his hands into fists. Dean catalogued the boy's posture, keeping the image in his mind as crossed his arms across his chest, ready for easy access.

Alastair raised his head. "Nobody is friendly with Novak. It's an unspoken rule at Lasserton High," the nasally voice informed.

" _Why_?" Dean asked, resisting himself from taking a step forward. "What's he done that's so wrong?"

The tall boy sneered. "It doesn't only got to do with what he's _done_. It's who he _is_. He's a loser, a nuisance, and he should have never have come here. Castiel doesn't belong in public school, not this one or any one close to here. He knows that," Alastair drawled on. He walked closer to Dean, overstepping the private bubble Dean created. "I like you, Dean. You had so much promise," Alastair began. "Don't make me turn on you, too. Novak is _not_ your problem. Leave him to us."

Dean puffed out his chest, trying to stare Alastair down, although the bully was taller. "You made it my problem. Leave him alone, Alastair. Or I swear-"

"What?" Alastair hissed. "What will  _you_  do, Winchester?"

But Dean only stared him down, green eyes meeting dark blue. When he didn't respond, Alastair huffed out a breath, then flung his arm back, ready to deliver a punch.

Dean was quick on his feet. As soon as Alastair's fist was within a foot from making contact, Dean grabbed it in his hand and twisted the taller teen's arm, pinning it behind his back and shoving him against a locker with a loud slam. Alastair's free hand was pressed against the locker, useless. A couple of people had stopped in the hallways now to watch, excited murmuring filling the hallways as people pulled out their phones. Some took pictures while the others typed furiously on theirs.

Leaning in close to his ear, Dean whispered, "I mean it, Alastair. You harm a hair on Castiel's head, and you're gonna deal with  _me_. You understand?"

Alastair groaned in protest. Dean pressed him harder against the locker so his cheek was smashed into it, his neck twisted in a painful position. Digging an elbow into Alastair's back, Dean repeated himself. "I said:  _do you understand?_ " Dean growled.

" _Yes_ ," Alastair hissed.

"That's more like it," Dean spat before tossing Alastair to the ground. The taller teen met the ground ungracefully, a loud  _oof!_ escaping from him as he scrambled to prop himself up on his arms. Dean was walking away, now, and Alastair gazed after him, a scowl set on his face.

"You trust him so much? You two _buddies_ , now?" Alastair called out as Dean made his way to British Literature. The teen stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around. He could practically hear the smirk in Alastair's voice when he said, "Ask him if you can read the note in his book."

* * *

"I heard what you did," Castiel spoke as he looked down at his desk, fingers fumbling with the pages of his blue paperback  _Julius Caesar_ copy. He gazed at it distractedly, completely uninterested in Shakespeare's words within the worn paper covers of the story. Dean had just taken his seat, and his eyes widened at the news.

"Well, I'll be damned," Dean spoke, seeming impressed. "Word travels fast in this place," he remarked with a grin. He had only been out in the hall with Alastair five minutes ago.

"This isn't funny, Dean," Castiel scolded, turning to face the blond boy. His blue eyes looked pleading. "Do not mess with Alastair. It's not something you want to get caught up in, and," Castiel hesitated, frowning as his eyebrows drew together. He glanced away. "He does what he must."

" _What_ _?_ " Dean exclaimed, then lowered his voice when people turned to look at the two (not like they weren't watching, before). Castiel looked shocked at Dean's outburst, his deep-blue eyes wide with surprise as they averted back to the blond. "Why the hell do you let that ass-clown do what he wants to you, Cas?" Dean asked, desperate to understand. "For Christ's sake, why do you sit down and take it?"

"Because I want to," Castiel retorted, face set.

Dean was about to respond, but Mrs. Madison walked into the classroom and handed out a quiz, threatening the gossiping class with zeros if they talked. So Dean didn't question it. Now was not the time. He'd have to get closer to Cas to get him to open up. Although he hated not forcing Castiel's secrets out of his scrawny self, he knew he couldn't get the stubborn bastard to explain anything until he felt he was ready to. He'd have to push questions aside and gain Castiel's trust before he could begin to help him. And, with the things Castiel has probably been through, gaining his trust would likely take a while.

_You trust him so much? Ask him if you can read the note in his book._

Biting his lip, Dean took his quiz and put Alastair's last taunting words to the deepest end of his mind, where it would be sure not to bother him, again.

* * *

When class was over, Castiel began gathering his things and was surprised to see Dean by his desk when he looked up. "Dean-" he began, startled.

"You wanna have lunch with me?" Dean asked, seeming confident and wearing that "you-can't-say-no-to-this" smile as Castiel stood up. "Well, actually, you don't have a choice. I'm gonna kidnap you after trigonometry and take you to the lunchroom, anyways," Dean corrected himself. "But I'd much rather hear you say 'yes'."

Castiel blinked, and he felt his heart race and his breath stop in his throat. Nobody ever wanted to eat with him. They all either shunned him or would trip him and spill food onto him. He hadn't been to the cafeteria since his very first day at public school in the seventh grade. Castiel didn't want to say that, though. One probably shouldn't admit what a loser one is to a person one could be potential friends with. "I-uhm, I do not eat lunch," he decided to say, instead.

Dean gave a small smile and laughed lightly as he nodded a little. He looked down and fished through his backpack. "Yeah, I figured that," he replied, looking up at Castiel with those alluring green eyes. "That's why I made two," he told Castiel with another bright grin as he pulled out two brown paper bags. Castiel just stared at them, his mouth agape. Dean put the bags back in his bag and gave Castiel a pat on the shoulder. "See ya after trig," he told him as he headed out of the class.

Castiel just stood there for a few seconds, mouth agape before he shut it, gaining back his senses. Licking his lips, Castiel packed the last of his things before he began making his way out of the room. He tried to ignore Mrs. Madison's very happy smile as he walked out the door, but it was hard to ignore her grin when he could very barely contain his own.

* * *

Nervousness twisted itself deep into Castiel's stomach as he waited out trigonometry, his third class of the day. He finished his test early. It had been incredibly easy, and Castiel was almost positive he'd receive an A on it. His headache proved to be a problem, since it made it hard for Castiel to remember certain things. But after some prodding, Castiel recalled those details and jotted down the answers, still finishing before everyone else.

Now he was watching the clock, waiting for the big hand to land on six. He tried distracting himself with reading, but he found that he couldn't concentrate on Shakespeare when he thought about sitting across from Dean Winchester and talking to him all throughout lunch, seeing his smile and hopefully hearing his laugh while he'd get the chance to look at those green eyes for a whole class period-

Castiel blinked and shook his head. Why was he thinking like this?

But he couldn't help the heat in his stomach. How had Dean known Castiel's schedule? The fact that Dean Winchester had given enough attention to Castiel to know where his classes were and when they were sent a fluttering happiness exploding in his chest.

When last the bell rang Castiel gathered his things slowly, giving Dean time to get to the class (if he wasn't pulling Cas's leg, and was actually going to come). He walked out the room to the sight of Dean loitering next to it, casually giving Castiel a smile. "Hey, Cas," he greeted. "You ready?"

Castiel nodded, and let Dean lead him to the lunchroom.

"Everyone is staring," Castiel mumbled as the two friends walked through the halls.

Dean rolled his eyes as he shifted his backpack on his shoulder. "Screw what they think, Cas."

The stares only increased once they entered the commons room, but Dean started up conversation in an attempt to distract Castiel. The two teens found an empty table at the far end of the cafeteria, and strode over to it. They sat there, and Castiel tried his hardest to ignore everyone's staring. The lunch room was eerily silent, mind the humming of whispering voices and a few casual speakers who didn't care much. He shouldn't be here. Castiel shouldn't be here. He was not allowed, he should leave these people alone. He did not deserve to sit here-

"Relax, Cas," Dean told the dark-haired boy from his spot right across from him. They were sitting right in the middle of the table, rather than the edge, since nobody else would be trying to sit with them, anyways. Castiel met Dean's eyes, his own wide and panicked.

"Dean, I don't belong here," Castiel protested. "I need to leave," he convinced himself, starting to get up.

But Dean grabbed his wrist, stopping the teen. "You belong here just as much as the rest of us do, Cas. Now sit," he ordered him, his eyes steely with determination.

Swallowing back his fear, Cas took a deep breath before he nodded. He sat down, stiffly. "I-" Castiel began, but stopped. He took another drawled breath and continued. "I have not... really... been in the cafeteria, before," he admitted to Dean, whose eyebrows rose up. "Not this one. The only lunchroom I have ever been in is the one on my first day of public school... in seventh grade," Castiel explained.

Dean looked concerned and a tad bit angry. "And they scared you out of coming back to a cafeteria all this time?" Dean asked, astounded.

Castiel smirked humorlessly, feeling embarrassed. "It... was not a pleasant experience, that's for sure."

Deciding not to comment on it, Dean shook his head with a sigh. He handed Castiel a brown lunch bag. "Here," he spoke, trying to seem nonchalant. Castiel hesitantly took the bag and looked at Dean. " _Christ_. Go ahead, Cas. I didn't poison it," Dean grunted in a frustrated tone as he pulled out his own lunch contents, containing a sandwich, a bag of pretzels, and an orange.

Obliging to Dean's order, Castiel opened his own bag to find the same things. He curiously unwrapped his sandwich and looked at it. It was bologna.

"Why did you pack lunch for me?" Castiel asked.

Dean spoke around a mouthful of bologna (and Castiel shouldn't have found that as alluring as he did). "Because I don't want you fainting again, you twig. As much fun as hauling your ass out of school was, I'd rather not have a repeat of that."

Castiel blushed, feeling his face heat up excessively, although he tried to contain it. Dean noticed, and decided to re-word himself. "I just worry about you, Cas," Dean admitted, his mouth empty this time. "Hell, I have no freaking clue why I do, since you can be such an ass, sometimes. But..." Dean shrugged, and continued to eat.

For some reason, that made Castiel feel much better. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Dean replied. "We're friends. Friends do this kinda stuff for each other," he informed him.

Castiel smiled at that, and decided to take a bite out of his sandwich in order to distract himself from the warmth of the word _friends_. It was really good, and it reminded him of the sandwiches he'd eat with his dad after soccer practice as a little kid. He ignored his memories, and focused on his lunch.

That was right up until a group of kids came over to their table.

"Mind if we sit?" a petite blond asked, but slid in next to Dean, anyways, placing her tray in front of her. "Hey," she greeted with a smile. "I'm Jo."

Jo was dressed in jeans, and a red leather jacket with a black tank top underneath it. She looked strikingly tough, and Castiel couldn't help but think she sort of resembled a female Dean. Her blond hair was wavy, and it ended just a little below her shoulders. She looked rather serious, but her smile was kind enough.

And Castiel was so completely stunned, because not only was she smiling at Dean, but she was smiling at Castiel, too.

Was this some sort of trick?

A redheaded girl clad in a Harry Potter tee sat at Castiel's left, and a blond boy clad in a green jacket sat at his right. On Dean's left was Jo, and on his right were two guys, both with brown hair, except one of them had a mullet and looked kinda like he just smoked a joint out behind the school while the other brunette looked awkward and sorta nervous.

Dean was the one to speak for both Castiel and himself. "Uhm... hello?" he replied, even more astounded when Jo grinned wider. "No offense, or anything... Jo... but why are you sitting here?" Dean asked as he looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed. 

Jo gave a smirk, and took her apple from her tray. "Well, to keep things short, it's because we hate Alastair," she remarked. "Always have. And we like how you stood up to him," she complimented, turning her head to give Castiel a softer smile than the one she was giving Dean.

"It really was awesome," the redhead remarked, smiling brightly as she leaned forward on the table, picking up a slice of pizza. "We heard you roughed him up real good."

"Yeah, and it's a good thing, too," the blond at Castiel's right added with a laugh. "Alastair is such a dick."

"We're glad somebody finally kicked his ass," mullet-kid said with a sly smile while the second brunet hissed a warning " _Guys"._  

"Uh-huh..." Dean said, obviously confused, but slightly flattered, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Anyways," Jo talked, again. "This is Charlie," she gestured towards the redhead. "Adam," she added, gesturing towards the blond on Castiel's right. "Ash, and Chuck," she finished, gesturing towards the brown-haired boys on Dean's right. "We'd like to sit with you two from now on. If you don't mind, of course," Jo admitted, smiling happily at the two friends.

Dean looked into Castiel's eyes. They spoke silently through their gaze, and then Dean looked over at Jo and the others.

"Welcome to the rejects table, everyone."

 


	6. Let's Make Plans

Metallica played at a fairly loud volume in Dean's Impala as the steady beat of drums and humming of bass filled the car. Sammy was going home with his friend, Andy, to work on a project, so Dean would be alone for the afternoon. The teen had already done a background check on Andy, and when the kid came out clean Dean had allowed Sam to go. Of course, he had told his younger brother to text him if anything even seemed the slightest bit eerie. Sam promised he would (not without a roll of his eyes) and said he'd let Dean know as soon as he was done.

Dean didn't mean to be paranoid. But, in all honesty, he had reason to be. Their dad's job was dangerous. Dean didn't even want to recall the numerous amount of times he and his family had been in danger. John would kill him if Dean didn't even do a simple background check on anybody Sam would be alone with.

Taking a deep breath, Dean urged himself to calm down. It took everything in Dean's power not to go find Sammy and take him home right at that moment. Tightening his grip on the wheel, Dean willed himself to listen to his music. Everything was fine. Sam was safe and Dean would pick him up soon.

So Dean continued to drive, until something caught his eye.

Castiel was waiting to cross the street, gazing patiently at the stoplight as he waited for his signal to go. Dean slammed on the brakes, ignoring the protesting honks behind him as he stopped his car next to the blue-eyed teen. The light had turned from yellow to red, now, and the angry drivers behind Dean gave honks of exasperation. Rolling down the passenger side window, Dean smiled at Cas, who was looking at him with wide eyes- probably from the very dangerous stunt he had just pulled.

" _Dean?_ " he could hear the boy utter.

"Hey, Cas! Need a lift?" Dean asked. Castiel seemed to debate with himself, until Dean reached over and opened the passenger seat door. The dark-haired teen finally gave a resigned sigh as he sat down in the car, pulling the door closed behind him. "Where ya headed?" Dean asked as he tried to not gaze at Cas too long, turning down the music. But, well _,_  Dean would be lying if he didn't admit that Castiel's eyes were absolutely mesmerizing in daylight.

"I was just making my way home," Castiel responded, looking down at the floor of the passenger seat.

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "That's a long walk," Dean noted as he began driving, again. "Did ya miss the bus or something?" he asked as he made his way to Castiel's house.

The teen shook his head. "No. I do not ride the bus," Castiel informed him. "I prefer walking... it is less of a hassle."

Dean snorted as he allowed himself a glance at Castiel before looking back at the road. "Somehow I doubt that, man," he admitted. "I mean, the bus ain't fun but it sure as hell beats walking."

Castiel gave a shrug. He didn't respond.

"Well," Dean began, trying out a nonchalant tone of voice. "I could take you to school and bring you home if you'd like," he offered. "You're on the way to school anyway." When Castiel didn't respond right away, Dean looked over at him. The teen's eyebrows were furrowed together as he gazed at Dean with a strange expression. It was almost as if he were waiting for Dean to laugh and kick him out.

"That..." the gravelly voice mumbled. "That would be nice," he admitted. "If it's not too much trouble, that is," Castiel added, like he was waiting for Dean to take it back and leave Castiel on his own.

Dean gave a smile. "No trouble, at all. I promise. Sam's grouchy in the morning, you'd be far better company," he joked.

Castiel returned the smile, then. "Thank you, Dean."

It was silent, once more.

When they reached Cas's home, Dean turned to look at the dark-haired teenager. Castiel met his gaze. "I'll pick you up tomorrow, alright?" he reminded him. "I'll be outside at seven thirty."

Castiel nodded and gave a wave goodbye before heading into his house. Dean watched him walk through the front door before driving home.

* * *

 

Castiel smiled slightly at the sight of his empty house. His father would be away for the afternoon. From what Castiel gathered, his father had a fairly big case he was working on. Castiel had caught sight of the papers the older man had been dwelling over the past few weeks. Being a lawyer (ironically), Mr. Novak would sometimes be away from home for long periods of time while working on cases all around the state. Castiel preferred those days. The days his father was away were the only days he felt safe being home.

Not even daring to tempt himself with the kitchen, Castiel retreated to the office space of his home. In there was the only computer he was granted permission to use, and he wanted to check and see if his grade for trigonometry had been updated. So he switched on the computer and logged on to the grade website for his school.

When he saw that nothing had been updated Castiel sighed and turned off the desktop, taking his things to his room where he sat in anxiety, wondering if he had done well on his test. It was all he could think about. Although his father could be a horrible person, Castiel still wanted to see him proud and satisfied. He wanted to make him happy, since Castiel was ultimately the reason his father's life took a downfall.

He didn't deserve to live in this house. He didn't deserve to be spared like this. No matter how many times his father punished him, Castiel felt as though it wasn't enough redemption. A small part of him awaited his punishments happily. He couldn't wait until he received a strong enough penance that could make him feel as though he has learned his lesson and paid his price.

But nothing was enough. Castiel wasn't sure anything would ever be. The only way he could make it up to his father would be to take away his own life. Then his father wouldn't have to take care of him anymore.

Castiel shook the thought out of his head.

The dark-haired teen took his seat at his desk and pulled out his homework. He decided he should do his work and sleep as early as he could so he wouldn't have to face his father, tonight. He wasn't sure if he could stand the look of disappointment in his eyes, today. It was just too much.

As he worked on his homework, Castiel felt his mind wander. Jo Harvelle... was she pulling a prank on Castiel, or was she genuinely interested in befriending him? She had brought her group of friends to Dean and Castiel's lunch table, and they all chatted as though it were completely normal. Well, Castiel didn't do much chatting, but he listened to their conversations, intrigued with how easily Dean connected with them. They had all gotten to know one another, and Dean seemed to like the strange group of teenagers very much. It was as if he had been friends with them for ages.

Castiel earned himself a surprise later on in the school day. Upon his arrival to his seventh period world history class, Castiel realized that he and Jo shared that class. Jo had gotten up as soon as he walked in, and left her two friends in order to sit by Castiel. He had to admit he was shocked with Jo's actions. The whole class had stared at them throughout the entire period as they worked together, whispering confused gossip with one another. There was no mention of the people staring at them in Castiel and Jo's conversations, though. It was almost like they instantly clicked. Jo was very intelligent, and she was more than happy to work with Cas rather than have him do all the work. Her actions reminded him of Dean.

Then there was also the way Charlie and Ash walked Castiel around in the hallways whenever they spotted him throughout that day. It seemed as though they were guarding him from something. Perhaps they, too, got the feeling that Alastair had it in even more for Castiel than he did, before. At least, Castiel was very aware of that. There was no way Alastair would let what Dean did to him slip by harmlessly. War was breaking out in Lasserton High School.

And there was no escaping it.

* * *

"Dean, Bobby's gonna stop by this weekend to check up on us," Sammy informed his older brother as he looked up from his cell phone. "According to him, Dad will be away for Thanksgiving... again," the younger Winchester reported, sounding very disappointed.

Dean shrugged, not looking up from his math homework. It wasn't any sort of shock to him. Their dad normally couldn't make it in time for holidays, and he left them without authoritative figures quite often now that Dean was old enough for it to be legal. It made no difference to Dean whether or not they would spend holidays alone.

Then he realized that Sam was probably upset, and he looked at his brother, finding out that he was indeed correct. Sam was scowling at his phone, seeming very much displeased. "Hey, cheer up," Dean urged him as he put his pencil down and stretched his arms up over his head, popping his shoulders satisfyingly. "How about this year I get us a turkey?" Dean offered, giving his brother a smile as the young boy looked at his brother hopefully. They hadn't had a Thanksgiving turkey since their mom passed away when Sam was only four. Unless you counted turkey sandwiches, that is. They were either on the road or home alone every Thanksgiving since their mother died.

"Really?" Sam asked, his eyes hesitant. "You'd really do that?"

Dean shrugged as he returned his attention to his math homework. Normally Dean didn't enjoy making a big deal out of Thanksgiving. The holiday reminded him of his mother far too much, and those memories were just too painful for him to handle (although he'd never tell Sammy that). "Yeah, why not? You got anything better to do?" he asked, looking up at Sammy again and raising an eyebrow.

Quickly, Sammy shook his head. "No! No, i'm just saying it'd be really awesome," Sam explained. "Would we... like, would we make the whole feast and everything?" Sam asked, shyly.

Dean's lips twitched into a smile. "If that's what you want."

Suddenly, a bright smile enveloped Sammy's features. "Thanks, Dean!" he exclaimed before getting up from his spot on the dining table and retrieving his backpack to begin on his work that he hadn't finished earlier with Andy. Dean smiled and got up to make dinner for Sammy and himself. Maybe Thanksgiving wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Hell, they deserved a break once in a while.

* * *

Castiel woke up to an empty house. He had fallen asleep at his desk and all the lights were out. Letting out a tired groan, Castiel looked at his alarm clock across the room. It was five forty-three in the morning. Yawning, Castiel stood up and turned on his desk lamp, squinting at the light that engulfed his visions, leaving dark, floating spots wherever he looked. He might as well get ready for school now that he was up, Castiel decided.

So, with the little bit of yellow light that leaked through the room, Castiel found his way to the bathroom where he took a shower and brushed his teeth. When he had stepped out of the bath, he noticed his cuts were healing as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, towel wrapped around his waist. The most recent ones were fully scabbed over, and honestly Castiel wasn't used to the sight. The bruising on his ribs was healed, now, the yellowish bruise starting to fade as the healthy shade of pink flesh overtook it. His bruised face was still prominent, of course, but Castiel was actually quite indifferent to the sight, nowadays. He always seemed to look like he had gotten into a particularly bad fight... and lost.

Running fingers messily through his wet hair, Castiel walked out of the bathroom and changed into jeans and one of his many worn out sweaters (it was a faded maroon, today). The day was very chilly, judging by the bitter cold of Castiel's room. He needed to remember to turn up the thermostat when his dad wasn't around to notice. Shivering, Castiel slipped on his jacket and shoes, gathered his school supplies as he checked the time. Six fifteen. He could just head to school now and be there early. If he brought his beanie with him the cold air wouldn't-

Oh, wait.

Dean was driving Castiel to school today.

Castiel felt his throat tighten and his heart flutter in his chest as warmth seeped through him, driving away the November chill. He didn't have to walk... he had a friend who wanted to drive him to school... he had a _friend_....

Castiel felt a smile make its way to his lips. Is this what friendship was? Was the tingling in his chest and the tightness in his stomach and the pounding of his heart all due to his excitement at making a friend? Castiel was never very good with understanding emotions like this. Up until he met Dean, he never quite felt any emotion other than anxiety and sadness. All other feelings had been long lost to him. He had no idea what category to place these new feelings in. Perhaps he'd need to do more research on it... he could grow closer to Jo and her group. He could see what feelings they brought him.

_But you don't deserve friendship. You don't deserve them. Push them away, push them away, push them-_

No. He wasn't going to think like that. He couldn't afford to think like that- not when things were finally going so well for him.

So, with that in his mind, Castiel took a deep breath and made his way to the living room where he sat and waited for the noise of Dean's car, sinking into the cold leather of his father's black couch. His finger traced at the wrinkles that lined the leather- worn from his father's many uses of it, often when he was passed out drunk. Castiel glanced at the clock more than he'd like to admit as he sat there. Within the next hour, Castiel's lower lip was practically chewed raw and his entire body was shaking with the nervous bobbing of his foot as it tapped against the couch.

_Tap-bump, tap tap-bump, tap tap tap-bump, tap-bump-_

Castiel forced his foot to still itself, crushing it underneath the weight of his other foot. His stomach twisted in anxiousness as the antique clock that sat above the grand fireplace neared seven thirty, ticking in a mocking manner. What if Dean forgot about him? What if it was a joke? What if Castiel imagined Dean promising him a ride? He should walk to school,  _right now_. He was going to be late and his dad was going to find out and-

The strong hum of an engine stated its presence outside of Castiel's home. Feeling his heart leap, Castiel got up and made his way to the window that peered out into the driveway. Indeed, Dean's car was parked there and waiting for him. Taking a deep breath to repress his smile, Castiel gathered his bag and went outside, the sudden rush of cold air nipping at his nose and cheeks.

The blue-eyed teen could see Dean smiling at him from the driver's seat. The passenger seat was empty, and Sam was sitting in the back. Dean wanted Cas to sit in the front...? Ignoring the heat that pooled in his cheeks, Castiel returned the smile and slipped into his seat.

"Good morning," he greeted both the Winchesters. Dean mumbled his good mornings as he started up the car. It was toasty inside, Castiel noted, and it smelled like leather and Dean's musky, pine scent. Out of the few times that Castiel had sat in this car, this was the first time he really took a moment to appreciate the details of it.

"Hey, Cas," Sam greeted, looking up from his textbook for one second to give the teen a quick smile. There were papers and notebooks sprawled out in the backseat, and Sam was looking at each occasionally, putting fingers between pages that he most likely intended to look over. He had a pencil tucked behind his ear, probably forgotten because there was another one in his hand.

Castiel raised an eyebrow as he buckled his seat belt. "Are you studying for a test?" he couldn't help but ask the younger boy.

Sam looked up and gave a sheepish smile. "No- a quiz... I just don't understand this class... the material is really complex and Physics isn't really my favorite subject," Sam admitted.

Castiel turned around some more now to face the young teen. "I was somewhat fair in physics. I could help you if you'd like," Castiel offered.

Sam perked up at that. "Really? You'd do that?" he asked hopefully.

Castiel shrugged, smiling slightly. "If you'd let me," he replied.

"Yeah, sounds good!" Sam exclaimed, smiling big now as he put away his things.

"You don't mind, Cas?" Dean asked as he glanced at his friend.

"Of course not," Castiel responded. "I'd be happy to help out in any way I can."

Dean smiled. It was different than his usual teasing smirks. This smile seemed softer, his eyes warmer. "Thanks, man."

"You could come over to our house on days that you're free," Sam suggested. "Since we're gonna be carpooling and stuff."

"Sounds like a plan," Castiel confirmed with a nod, glancing at Dean to make sure it was okay. The blond didn't seem to have any objections, so Castiel felt himself relax.

Pretty soon they pulled up to the middle school and dropped off Sammy. The drive over to the high school went through in silence. When they parked in the school's parking lot, Castiel looked over at Dean. "Thanks for doing this," he began. Dean looked at him with a confused expression and Castiel clarified himself. "Driving me. You really didn't have to," Castiel explained.

"Geez, Cas," Dean started, a tint of red highlighting his ears. "I told you, it's no big deal. Come on," he began before Castiel could say anything. "Let's go."

So they got out of the car and walked to the school building. Before they could even make it inside, though, Castiel felt an ice cold smack at the back of his neck that instantly seeped under his backpack and through his jacket, cold trickles reaching his sweater. Almost as instantly as the first smack, four more followed: one hitting the back of his head, two hitting his arms, and the last one his leg. Among the chaos, Castiel could hear Dean curse. " _What the_ -"

But Castiel wasn't focusing on Dean. He was focusing on the intense bitter cold that now traveled through his body. Castiel realized now that it was water. He had been hit by water balloons. His hair was soaked thoroughly, along with his torso and right pant leg. The water was ice cold, and Castiel could already feel goosebumps form on his arms as he fought off the urge to shiver.

Now he was taking in everything around him. A crowd had stopped, most of them looking very shocked while the rest laughed and looked around the crowd to see who had thrown the balloons. The sound of voices was loud, and despite the cold that now enveloped him, Castiel felt his cheeks flush hotly with embarrassment.

" _Who threw that?_ " Dean exclaimed, glaring at the crowd, who now instantly hushed up at Dean's outburst. Nobody answered. Everyone was whispering among themselves. Some people even began to leave. Dean growled, fists clenched. "How about you show yourself you son of a-"

"Dean," Castiel interrupted him, placing a hand (one that wasn't currently soaked) on Dean's arm. The blond boy instantly looked at Castiel, and their eyes met. Castiel stared him down, intense blue eyes taking control over furious green ones. Underneath his grip, Castiel instantly felt Dean's muscles loosen up.

Breaking their eye contact with a huff, Dean glared at what was left of the crowd one last time. "Let's go," he muttered angrily as he shouldered away Castiel's hand. He took off, and Castiel sighed before following suit.

When they were safe inside the building, Dean turned around and held Castiel's shoulders, stopping the teen in his tracks as he observed him. "Damnit, Cas. You're soaked," Dean mumbled as he let go of Castiel's shoulders to run a hand through his hair in frustration.

"It really is alright, Dean," Castiel assured him, although he was fighting off the need to shed his clothes and find a blanket or two. "They're not worth your anger. If you get upset you are only giving them what they-"

"Cas, they threw freaking  _water balloons_  at you!" Dean exclaimed. "Like, who the hell even does that? How are you not the least bit pissed?" Dean asked, his green eyes wide with astonishment.

 _Because I deserve it._  "Because it does not matter," Castiel mumbled.

Dean seemed like he was about to say something, but he instantly closed his mouth into a tight line and licked his lips before averting his gaze to the lockers on his right. "Let's go get you cleaned up," he mumbled as he headed off to the bathrooms. Castiel followed, feeling a twisting nag in his stomach convincing him that Dean was very much upset with him.

After scaring off the two freshmen boys that were in the men's room, Dean grabbed some paper towels and handed them to Cas, who was unzipping his jacket and shrugging it off after removing his backpack from his shoulders. He couldn't help but shiver at the loss of his jacket, although it was soaked with cold water. Dean noticed and gave the teen a disapproving look.

"You're gonna get sick," he commented after Castiel accepted his paper towels. "First the concussion and now we can add pneumonia to the list," Dean mumbled.

Castiel rolled his eyes as he wiped hard at the water on the back of his right leg. The jean's material wasn't really allowing much water to be soaked up by the towels, but Castiel tried at it nevertheless. He didn't want to walk around looking like he'd had quite the unfortunate accident for the rest of the day. "The school has plenty of heaters," Castiel informed the green eyed boy. "I'm fairly sure that I will be fine, doctor," he added sarcastically. Then, at the glare he received from Dean, he cut back on the snide remarks. "My clothes will dry in no time," he mumbled.

When Dean didn't respond, Castiel sighed and threw away the dripping paper towels, grabbing a few more as he wiped at his hair. Once it was somewhat dry, Castiel ran his fingers through his hair and ruffled it to air it out better. His sweater was slightly wet, but fortunately his jacket had taken most of the blow. Once he had finished throwing away the rest of the dampened paper towels, Castiel turned to face Dean and spread out his arms to show him. "There," he stated, giving a forced smile. "Good as new."

Dean ran the tip of his tongue over his lips and his jaw set as he looked at Castiel. "Let's go to homeroom," he said stiffly, tossing Castiel his backpack and making his way out of the bathroom.

Castiel huffed as he followed his friend. Today was not going to be an easy day.

* * *

British literature passed by with stolen glances and tons of independent classwork. Thanksgiving break was starting on Wednesday, and the teachers were all cramming work into their classes, as if a four-day break were reason enough to do that. The school was furious with the new break schedule (they had reason to be, Thanksgiving break started  _the day before Thanksgiving_ ), and every now and then Castiel would hear whispers of people planning to take off on Monday or Tuesday instead, so that way they could have the whole week off. Castiel did not even consider joining his fellow classmate's in their acts, though. As much as he craved his vacation, he had important reasons to stay in class.

Castiel was working hard. His father would be returning Sunday morning (as a text message during homeroom had explained), and Castiel really really wanted to have good grades to show him by the time he returned.

The bell rang and Castiel gathered his things. Dean was waiting by Cas's desk, again, and the dark-haired boy gave him a hesitant smile, to which Dean tried to return. He was still upset about this morning, Castiel realized.  _Well, I don't understand why he would be. He's not the one who got hit with water balloons_ , Castiel mused.

So when he finished gathering his things, the two teens began walking out of class. That was, until Mrs. Madison called Castiel over.

"Castiel? Can you come here for a moment?" she asked with a smile.

Blinking, Castiel nodded and walked to her desk, trailed by Dean. "Yes, Mrs. Madison?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted in his signature confused expression.

The literature teacher smiled fondly. "Here," she began, handing Castiel a rectangular item wrapped in wrapping paper. "Happy birthday, Castiel," she told him with a smile.

Castiel was dazed. He had completely forgotten it was his birthday. What with all that had been going on, he didn't even remember it. "Oh," he breathed out, feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment. "Thank you," he replied, gathering his senses as he gave his teacher a genuine smile and accepted her gift. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, sweetie," she replied, giving him a warm smile. "Have a great birthday."

Giving her one last smile, Castiel nodded and looked into Dean's shocked eyes before the two walked out.

"Dude, you didn't tell me it was your birthday," Dean remarked as he walked Castiel to his second period class, Chemistry. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

Castiel just blinked, staring at the gift in his hands. "I suppose I forgot about it," he admitted.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "How can you forget about your birthday when your lit. teacher remembers it?" Dean asked, astounded.

Castiel looked at Dean, his expression serious and slightly confused. "Mrs. Madison always remembers my birthday. She's given me a present every year. I do not celebrate my birthday, and honestly I almost forgot when it was," Castiel remarked.

Dean just blinked, unable to speak.

They made it to Castiel's Chemistry class, and he looked at Dean, again. "I'll see you at lunch," Castiel spoke before walking into his class, leaving a stunned Dean behind.

* * *

When third period was over, Castiel walked up to Mrs. Bates's desk. "Excuse me, Mrs. Bates," he spoke up, gathering her attention as she looked up at him and away from her computer monitor. "I was wondering if... uh, well if you've graded my test from yesterday," Castiel asked, knowing it was probably a bit much to ask if his math teacher graded his test out of the hundreds that were waiting for their markings. He suddenly felt very stupid.

That was, until Mrs. Bates gave him a big smile. "In fact, I did, Mr. Novak," she remarked, opening a drawer and searching through a file containing a stack of papers. "You had quite the memorable score on it," she remarked as she pulled out a packet and handed it to him, smiling wider. "Congratulations."

Castiel felt his heart beat fast in his chest as his shaky hands grabbed the paper.

A one-hundred and five.

Castiel got a one-hundred and five.

He swallowed thickly, his stomach churning. "Wh-what- ah," he stuttered, his laughing coming out weak. He looked at Mrs. Bates with questioning eyes, his eyebrows sewn together with confusion as he smiled. "Why the extra five?" he couldn't help but ask.

Mrs. Bates gave a smirk. "You corrected two of my questions. It was very observant and clever, nobody else found the error. I supposed it was worthy of an extra five points. You can keep the test, if you'd like. There is nobody left who hasn't taken it."

Castiel laughed, feeling his eyes water as he ran a hand through his hair. He was absolutely shocked. "Thank you," he spoke, looking into his teacher's eyes. "Thank you so much," he laughed.

His math teacher smiled warmly. "You deserve it, Castiel. Have a good weekend," she dismissed.

"You too," he returned, and began walking out of the class, eyes glued onto the paper in his hands. He was so distracted that he ran into Dean.

"Woah there," Dean spoke, startled as he grabbed Cas's shoulders and steadied him. "You alright, Cas?" he asked, noting the dazed look on the boy's face. Castiel only smiled wide, not even bothering to ask why Dean was waiting outside of his classroom. Dean raised his eyebrows. "What-"

"I got a one-hundred and five," Castiel spoke breathlessly.

"Huh?" Dean asked, not understanding.

Castiel lifted up his math test, smiling wide, now. "I got an A on it. I passed my math test," he clarified.

Dean smiled big, now. "Awesome, man! Damn, a one-hundred and five?" he looked at the red numbers on top of the packet. "How'd you do that?" Dean asked as he took the packet and walked to lunch with Castiel. He skimmed through the papers while Castiel trotted beside him, a goofy grin on the blue-eyed boy's face. "Was there a bonus question?"

"Nope," Castiel responded happily. "I corrected Mrs. Bates's errors on the test," Castiel explained.

Dean smirked. "Nice going, man!" he remarked, slinging an arm around Castiel's shoulder as he held out the test in front of them. "We should celebrate," he suggested as the two friends made their way to their lunch table.

"Celebrate what?" Charlie asked, their new group of friends picking up on their conversation.

Before Castiel could speak, Dean answered her. "Cas got a one-hundred and five on his math test," he spoke, seeming like a proud father. "Also, it's his birthday," he added, making Castiel's smile fade as he glared at Dean.

" _Dean_ ," he mumbled.

"It's your birthday?" Jo asked, eyes wide.

"You never said anything about it, yesterday!" Charlie remarked.

"Yeah, he didn't tell me, either," Dean added as he and Castiel sat at their table.

"We should definitely celebrate!" Charlie exclaimed, beaming at Castiel.

"That's not necessary-" Castiel began, but nobody paid attention to his statement.

"We could go see that new horror movie at the cinema," Adam suggested with a smile.

"Aw, man, I think I know what you're talking about! I've been wanting to see that  _forever_!" Chuck exclaimed.

"It came out a month ago, Chuck," Charlie spoke with a roll of her eyes.

"That's still a long time," Chuck countered.

"We could all crash at my place afterwards," Jo added with a smile. "My mom wouldn't mind."

"Hell yeah, we could hang out in the basement!" Ash exclaimed. "With Ellen's fridge stocked with beer-"

"That'd be so much fun!" Charlie squealed. She turned to look at Cas. "Whad'ya say, Castiel?" she asked, eyes bright with excitement.

Castiel looked at everyone around him. He squirmed in his seat, looking down at the table. "Uh- I don't really have money for the movies... and I should probably-"

"I could pay for you," Dean volunteered. "C'mon, Cas," he urged with a winning smile. "Hell, who knows. It could be fun," he murmured so only Cas could hear.

Drawing his lips into a line, Castiel debated with himself. His father would be gone until Sunday... his grade was almost back to an A. He had worked really hard in school, and, hell, it  _was_  his birthday after all. Maybe he deserved this break.

Castiel smiled and looked at his friends. "Sure, that sounds like fun."


	7. Raspberry Lemonade and Twizzlers

When school ended, Dean dropped off Castiel at home to get ready. Dean was going to be picking up everyone, since he was the only one with a car (besides Ash, but his pick-up truck had broken down and was being repaired). Everyone had jokingly groaned when they found out that the car would be a tight squeeze, but they agreed to find a way to fit everyone in. It was gonna be a short drive, anyways. Everyone (besides Castiel) was gathering at Adam's house, where Dean would pick them up and take them to the cinema.

So now Castiel was at home getting ready. The movie started at eight, and Castiel was trying to mentally prepare himself. He tried not to over think the coming evening, because it was sure to give him serious anxiety issues that would eventually make him cancel last minute. So, instead, Castiel worked on homework until it was seven thirty- preoccupying his mind to the point where it was too late to say no. When it came time to get ready, he looked in the mirror and gazed sullenly at his reflection. His hair was very messy, poking in every direction from working on his homework (Castiel tended to run a hand through his hair when he was deep in thought). He smoothed down his hair, trying to tame it in vain as he observed his outfit. Castiel scowled. He'd probably have to get changed. His raggedy sweater just wasn't going to cut it. That added with his bruised cheek made him look like a delinquent.

Taking in a breath, Castiel made his way to his closet where he scavenged through his clothes, looking for his nicest ones. He ended up changing into a deep blue v-neck, a smoky-gray cardigan over it, and a pair of black jeans (which he hadn't worn in quite some time, and were pretty fitting on him, Castiel noted). Next, Castiel slipped into his same old pair of worn out shoes that he'd owned since the eighth grade. They were gray with black laces, and they were very much rugged and beat up. Castiel only owned two pairs of shoes: these and a pair of running sneakers for gym.

Looking at himself in his mirror, Castiel smiled. He looked somewhat better. So, with that in mind, Castiel went to the bathroom to gather a few things. Jo had said everyone would be sleeping over, so Castiel retrieved his toothbrush from the bathroom, along with his tube of toothpaste, deodorant and his contact solution and case, deciding to gather his glasses, as well. His eyesight wasn't too terrible, just a little out of focus to the point where words on a whiteboard were cumbersome to decipher.

He went into his bedroom and picked up his backpack, emptying the contents within it on the bed so he could make room for his possessions. He tossed in the bathroom supplies, then added a pair of sweatpants, a thin blue sweatshirt, and his cell phone charger. Lastly, he added his present from Mrs. Madison, which he promised himself he'd open later on.

When he checked to make sure that he had everything he needed, Castiel zipped up his backpack, got his beanie and jacket, and made his way to the living room where he sat down on a couch and waited for Dean, gazing at his cell phone screen for a text message.

Dean had asked for Castiel's number on their way to pick up Sammy earlier today. Castiel tried to ignore the feeling it gave him- his heart pounding wildly and his hands getting clammy as he took Dean's cell phone and added his number to his contact list. Castiel felt quite special, because (he noticed) he was one of the few contacts on Dean's cell phone. Later on, during a red light, Dean had texted him to make sure he had the right number. Castiel was staring at that message, now, reading it over and over, even though it really wasn't all that special. There were only two text messages sent between them, and they went as follows:

_Dean: Cas?_

_Castiel: Hello, Dean._

Dean had laughed at Castiel's message, saying how he could almost hear Cas's voice saying those words. Castiel smiled at that, observing the way Dean tipped his head back as he laughed, his eyes crinkled with the smile that reached them.

Smiling at the memory, Castiel looked over the text, again. Why did he feel so happy about having somebody's phone number? It wasn't that special. They were friends, after all. Exchanging numbers was a common activity between friends, Castiel reminded himself.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated and he checked it.

_Dean: Im outside_

Castiel got up and put on his jacket and beanie, letting it hang loosely on the back of his head, covering up the messy protruding hair back there (it was the most he could do), then slid on his backpack and made his way out the door. It was dark outside, the street very barely lit by the soft warm glow of a few lampposts. Dean's black car blended right in, the smooth surface only giving away its presence by reflecting the moonlight, headlights shining as if jealous of the natural glow. Castiel grabbed his key from his pocket, locking the door behind him before he made his way to Dean.

Dean got out of the car and gave Cas a smile, taking his backpack. "I'll put that in the trunk. There's not gonna be enough room for it once everyone's in the car," Dean explained. Castiel nodded, and when his bag was in the trunk the two friends got into the car, Castiel sliding into the passenger seat next to Dean. Castiel looked out the window at his house. This was the first weekend in years that he'd be leaving it, besides to go to church. It felt strange- almost surreal. This had to be a dream, because he was actually leaving his home to hang out with  _friends_. About a month ago Castiel wouldn't have thought he'd ever be doing something like this. And, honestly, he owed it all to Dean Winchester.

When Castiel realized the car didn't start, he looked over at Dean. The teen was gazing at him, and when he realized Castiel caught him he gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry. You look... different," he noted.

Castiel raised an eyebrow and looked down at his outfit, feeling embarrassed now. "I... they are the nicest clothes I own, I think- besides my church clothes," Castiel explained shyly, fingers twiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. It was a pretty big change from the ill-fitting sweaters and jeans he normally wore. These, in contrast, fitted his frame rather than hiding it.

To his surprise, Dean barked out a laugh, starting up the car. "Y'look good, Cas. I like it," he admitted, and Castiel felt his heart launch itself into his throat. Dean thought Castiel looked nice... if it was just a compliment, why on Earth was Castiel's heart beating so fast?

He was glad it was nighttime, because he knew for certain his face was beet red.

The car ride was silent, for the most part. Dean played one of his cassette tapes, and they listened to it as they drove to Adam's house. Castiel allowed himself a side glance over at Dean, who was paying too much attention to the road and his music to notice. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a red button up and a gray cargo jacket on top. He was also wearing his usual scruffy jeans and boots. Castiel's gaze wandered to Dean's face, highlighted by the many lights that dotted the streets. His irises almost looked yellow with light, and the glow warmed his face, outlining his nose and cheekbones and full lips. Feeling himself blush, again, Castiel tore his gaze away and looked out his window, trying to get the image of Dean's lips out of his mind.

When they got to Adam's house, the whole gang walked out the front door to the car, each carrying bags, themselves. Dean got out and opened the trunk, and everyone put their belongings in it. Excited voices made their way to Castiel's hearing from outside the car, and he heard the back door open with a pop.

"Hey, Castiel!" Charlie greeted as she clambered into the back, followed by Ash and Chuck. Castiel smiled and returned her greeting.

Suddenly he could hear Jo and Adam arguing.

"No way am I sitting in the back-"

"You lost, Adam," Jo said exasperatingly. "Paper beats rock, you get the back."

"Best two outta three?"

Dean's voice interrupted them as he climbed back into the driver seat. "Adam, you should've chose scissors," Dean joked. "Just squeeze into the back somehow, sit on the floor or something. Jo, you can sit in the front with Cas. The drive is like seven minutes, guys, it's no big deal as long as we don't get caught," Dean told them.

With a laugh from Jo and a grumble from Adam, Jo opened the passenger seat door and gave Castiel a smile. "Hey! Mind if I squeeze in?" she asked.

Castiel blinked and shook his head. "No, I don't mind," he responded. So Jo shuffled in, and Castiel scooted over so he was sitting in the middle. His leg pressed against Dean's, and he squirmed, trying to put a little bit of space between them, thus scooching closer to Jo. A scent that smelled almost like apples- accompanied by the smell of a diner- invaded Castiel's senses, and it calmed him for some reason. He realized quickly that it was coming from Jo, wafting off of her as she adjusted to buckle in her seat belt. When Dean started up the car, he looked over at Castiel and raised an eyebrow, giving a smirk.

"You should probably find something to hold onto, Cas," he advised as he buckled himself in. "There's no seat belt for the middle," he informed his friend.

" _Or the floor_ ," Adam chimed in from the back. Everybody laughed.

Castiel felt nervous, fingers grasping onto his knees. Jo noticed.

"You can take my seat, if you'd like?" she offered, moving to unbuckle herself.

"No, it's alright," he assured her. "I'm fine."

"You could just grab onto Jo if things get bumpy," Dean joked, quirking an eyebrow and giving a wink. Castiel flushed.

" _Dean_."

"Oh,  _shut up_ ," the blond retaliated with an eye roll, smiling nonetheless.

With a laugh, Dean began driving the group to the movie theater. Everybody listened to Dean's music (it turned out Ash and Dean had the same taste) and they all talked about how excited they were to see the "best horror movie ever". Castiel felt a nervous twist in his gut. He never really liked horror movies, but he wasn't about to tell everyone and ruin their night out. He'd just have to suck it up and get through the movie in one piece.

When they pulled up to the theater, everybody climbed out of the car messily (not without Dean threatening to kill them if they "fucked with the upholstery"), and made their way to the theater, buying tickets at the booth in the entrance. Castiel felt his heart pound as Dean put his ticket into his hand. He mumbled a thank you.

And, of course, Dean noticed.

"You alright, Cas?" Dean whispered as they walked into the cinema side-by-side, shoulders bumping as Dean leaned in. The theater was warm, and Castiel's cold cheeks stung with the temperature change.

"Yes," he managed to get out, eyes looking from the floor up ahead of him. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Dean asked, eyeing his friend as they walked to the snack line. "You look like you're gonna be sick," Dean pointed out.

Castiel shook his head. "I'm fine, Dean. Really," he assured his friend as he turned to meet his gaze. Dean stepped back slightly, and opened his mouth as if to say something.

Before Dean could respond, an elbow nudged Castiel's shoulder. "Here you go, Cas!" Charlie exclaimed as she displayed four different types of candies and an icee.

Castiel's eyes widened. "What is this?" he asked as the candy and drink were shoved into his hands. His blue eyes looked into Charlie's, then around at the rest of the group, who were laughing at Castiel's expression.

"Well, we didn't really have much time to get you a decent gift," Adam pointed out.

"So, happy birthday!" Jo exclaimed.

Castiel let out a laugh as he looked at the candy. They looked pretty good, from the illustrations on the wrappers. But Castiel automatically noticed he's never had these types of candy, before. He observed them closely.

"What's wrong?" Chuck asked. "You don't like 'em?"

"No, no, it's not that," Castiel insisted. "I've just never had them before," Castiel explained, looking up from the candy to Chuck as he gave a shrug.

" _What?_ " Jo, Ash, and Adam exclaimed together.

"You're  _joking_ , right?" Charlie asked. Chuck just looked dumbstruck.

Castiel looked at his friends, his eyebrows furrowed. "No, I am not joking. I mean, I've had Skittles, before," Castiel explained as he looked at the Sour Skittles wrapper. "Just not these kind."

"Dude, what have you been  _doing_  your whole childhood?" Ash asked, an astounded look on his face. Even Dean was looking at Castiel with shock.

 _Avoiding my abusive father._  "Not much, I suppose," he answered.

Charlie snorted. "Apparently," she replied.

"Well as much fun as you guys are having harassing Cas about his lack of candy experience," Dean began, holding a tub of popcorn and putting a soda bottle into his jacket pocket, "we sorta have a movie to get to."

So they walked into the room where their movie was being held, darkness gulping them all up as they fumbled around trying to find the best seats. Charlie pestered Cas quietly all the while ( _you haven't even had Goobers? Really?_ ). When they found the perfect row (as deemed so by Ash), they filed into their seats almost in the very back, Castiel sitting between Dean and Charlie. He had stuffed his candy into his cardigan and jacket pockets and picked up his icee, holding it in his hands as he observed it in the dim light of trailers flicking on the giant screen in front of him. The drink was blue raspberry, the one he'd always get when he went to the movies with his parents.

"What, don't tell me you haven't had a slushie, either?" Dean asked as he raised an eyebrow at his friend, smirking.

Castiel smiled slightly. "No, I've had it before," he responded, not looking up from his cup as he took a sip from it. He could hear Dean chuckle.

"Here, take some before Ash eats it all," Dean offered, handing his bucket of popcorn over. Castiel smiled and grabbed some. It was buttery and salty and one of the best things he's tasted in a while, besides the burgers Dean bought him a couple days ago, of course.

When they started paying attention to the trailers, Dean would lean in and whisper comments about how dumb some of them looked while other times he'd tell Cas that they'd "definitely have to see that soon". It gave him a strange feeling in his gut- imagining going to the movies with just Dean. But surely Dean meant the whole group when he said "we"? At some point during the trailers, Dean and Charlie got into a heated debate over whether one of the trailers was completely awful or not. It was some sort of a post-apocalyptic action movie, and Castiel had silently agreed with Charlie on the opinion that is was very bad. The explosions were cheesy and the acting was over dramatic. But he held his tongue when his friends asked him what he thought. They were both leaning over Cas, bragging about their movie expertise as they defended their opinions. Eventually Castiel had to separate them, not without a laugh first when the rest of the group chose sides, defending either Dean or Charlie.

Before he knew it the movie was starting. It was an exorcism movie, Castiel realized, one of the things Castiel was terrified of the most. The movie flickered on with a scene of an abandoned barn house, a girl tied down and bloody and screaming- her eyes coal black. He gripped his armrests, sitting stiffly in his seat while the film continued on. When Castiel was young his mother would tell him that God and His angels would always protect him and watch over him. After his mother was gone, his father would tell him that all the angels were gone, too- that they left with her. When they got in arguments Castiel's father would tell him things like "Lucifer and his demons will come after you, now", and "the angels are gone and you won't be safe unless you be good and go to church". It horribly scarred Castiel, and he would always be afraid of what would happen if he disobeyed his father's orders.

He'd have nightmares (ones that he woke up in the middle of the night from, covered in a sheen of hot sweat) about being taken away by the devil, locked in a cage with him, never to escape. He had dreams of people with black eyes chasing him, overpowering him as they drag him to hell and shed him of his wings- ripping them from his back- the ones that his mother told him made him one of God's angels. That's how Castiel got his name, acutally- his mother named him after one of the angels (the angel of Thursday) and would always tell Castiel that that made him an angel, too.

Although it was just a movie, it made him anxious- seeing demons, that is. He closed his eyes when things got particularly graphic, and Dean caught him right away. "Hey, Cas," Dean whispered, leaning in when a girl's neck snapped unnaturally and she screeched curses in some strange language- a mix between Latin and some other sort of gibberish. "You okay, man?"

Castiel nodded, opening his eyes as he swallowed thickly and forced himself to look at the screen. He couldn't make himself speak, his voice would just give it away. It was silly, he knew, to be afraid of something so dumb. This movie idea had been done tons of times, before, but it didn't stop him from feeling truly scared. Perhaps it was the loud speakers and the full screen and dark room. But he didn't want to tell Dean that. There was no way he was going to ruin this night for everyone. He should be happy, anyways. Castiel was out with  _friends_. They were people that cared about him and wanted to make him happy. He should make them happy, too, by not spoiling their night.

The next thing he knew a comforting, warm hand was on his arm, giving it a light squeeze. He looked down at it in shock then over at who it belonged to. Dean was looking Castiel in the eyes, the green of his irises still prominent in the glow of the movie screen. Castiel felt his heart calm and he gave a small smile.

They continued to watch the movie, and Dean's hand continued to stay in its place on Castiel's arm- a constant reminder that there was nothing to be afraid of. By the time the movie was over, Dean's hand went back to its respective place before anybody could notice, and the two friends didn't say anything about it. Everyone got up to leave, chatting excitedly with one another about how awesome and terrifying the movie was.

"You didn't eat any of your candy!" Charlie pointed out when they were in the light of the cinema lobby.

Castiel rolled his eyes and gave a smile. "I suppose I was too focused on watching a girl's neck bend in impossible ways while she spider-climbed on walls," he replied sarcastically. Dean barked out a laugh, his head tilting back. Ash and Adam snickered, as well.

Charlie raised an eyebrow as she smiled, elbowing Cas in the side. "Well, Baby Blues who woulda known you had a sarcastic side?" Charlie laughed as Castiel's eyes squinted in confusion.

"Baby blues?" he inquired, tilting his head to the side.

Everyone suddenly laughed and Jo spoke up. "She's talking about your eyes, Castiel," Jo explained, trying to hold back the smile that stretched her lips.

Castiel's eyes widened, and he felt rather dumb for not knowing that in the first place. "Oh," he spoke, feeling his cheeks heat up.

Dean's arm slung around Castiel's shoulders as the group headed to his car. "Ah, don't listen to them, Cas. We don't need them," Dean comforted him. "More candy for us, anyways," he said with a smirk, glancing over at the others.

Everyone immediately flooded over, tackling Castiel in hugs and compliments.

"Did I mention how great you look tonight?" Charlie asked.

"Lovin' the outfit, Cas," Jo added, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Castiel rolled his eyes, smiling. "I was going to share with you all, anyway," Castiel commented. "I don't believe it'd be the best idea to eat it all on my own."

The group cheered and talked enthusiastically about what they'd do when they got to Jo's house. Charlie said she'd brought all the Star Wars movies she owned, and that they should have a movie marathon (well, it was less of 'should' and more of "you bitches are gonna watch Star Wars with me whether you like it or not"). Everyone seemed particularly enthusiastic about that, so they agreed on it as they clambered into Dean's car, taking their same seats. Adam and Ash declared that they'd play a drinking game with the movie marathon- every time Luke Skywalker whined, they'd take a drink. Charlie laughed and said she hoped they'd have fun getting wasted within the first thirty minutes. After Ash and Adam relentlessly pestered the girls to join them, Jo and Charlie agreed they'd take a drink every time Leia insults somebody. Chuck said he'd happily keep count of what group ends up taking the most drinks. When they asked Dean if he'd join their game, he politely declined, saying he'd rather just have a couple beers. They didn't even have to ask Castiel to know he didn't drink, and he was thankful that he didn't have to point that out.

When Dean pulled into Jo's driveway, everybody got out and retrieved their belongings. When they got inside they were greeted by Jo's mom, Ellen. Ellen was a very kind woman, although she held the subtle strictness of a protective mother. She agreed to letting the group have a couple drinks, trusting Jo to make sure they all stayed safe, and locked up her more hard liquor. After some pestering at the teens, promising them she'd "kick their asses to the other side of the Kansas" if they did anything stupid, she told the group that she was just going to be in the living room, and that if they needed anything just to ask her. Before Jo ushered everyone to the basement, Castiel noticed that Ellen was staring at him. When he caught her, she gave him a slight sympathetic smile before looking away. He didn't have long to think about it before Jo had a hand on his back, guiding him down the basement steps.

"Don't mind her," Jo apologized. "I... well I might've told her about you a little- that it's your birthday, and..." Jo trailed off. They had made it to the bottom of the stairs, and now they stopped to talk. She tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear before she continued. "About Alastair and stuff... I think she found out who you were because of..." Jo bit her lip and gestured to Cas's bruises. He felt himself turn red.

Oh, great, that's what he needed- more people to feel sorry for him. "Oh," was all he managed to get out as he tore his eyes away from Jo, looking at the ground before he forced himself to look at her, again.

Jo gazed at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, Cas. She means no harm, I promise. She's just pretty worried, y'know? It's how she is."

"Yes, it's alright," Castiel told her with a smile. "It's fine."

Jo looked into Castiel's eyes, as if searching for a giveaway that he was lying. Before she could say anything, though, Dean interrupted him.

"You lovebirds gonna come over here or are we gonna have to start without you?" he asked, looking over at them almost irritably as he waited by the light switch. Backpacks were already thrown into a pile in the corner of the basement. A movie was in the VCR and ready to play. When Castiel processed Dean's comment, he felt his face grow hot.

"We're not-" he began.

"Coming, your majesty," Jo replied sarcastically. She turned to face Cas and gave him a smile, squeezing his arm before heading over to Charlie to prepare the drinks Chuck had received from the fridge. Castiel looked around the basement. They were in one large room, and there was a door on each wall. One of the doors was a screen one that led to an outdoor room, and Castiel could faintly see a few chairs and a hot tub. In the outdoor room was another door leading outside. On the other walls in the basement was a door that lead to a guest bedroom, one to a storage room (which had mostly pipes, boxes, and the mini fridge, from what Castiel could see, and one led to a spare room that Cas couldn't really see into, because the lights were off in that room. Plush couches and chairs sat around a flat screen TV, and a coffee table sat in front of the chairs. There was a couple of small tables around the room, and a grand piano, as well, along with classy looking art that hung on the walls. The drinking game competitors were sitting on some beanbags in front of the TV with half a bottle of what appeared to be vodka, and Chuck was sitting on an armchair near them, notebook paper and pen in hand.

Shuffling awkwardly in his spot, Castiel decided to sit on a love seat, and dropped his backpack on the floor beside the couch. The lights suddenly turned off and the movie began rolling. A couple seconds later, Dean plopped down next to him, holding up two beer cans. He held one over to Cas, a smile on his face.

Castiel looked at it for a second before taking it in his hands. It was cold, condensation beading along the can. He could hear Dean chuckle beside him.

"Lemme guess, you haven't had a beer, before?" Dean asked, reclining in his seat as he popped open his own can.

Castiel licked his lips, gnawing on the bottom one before he spoke. "No, not really. I haven't seen any of the Star Wars movies, either, if we're going to talk about everything I haven't gotten to do," Castiel added. Dean stared at him, dumbstruck. "But I suppose tonight should be the night that I do things I have not done, before," Castiel decided.

Giving a snort of a laugh, Dean clapped a hand on Castiel's back. "Outta boy," he encouraged with a goofy smile, taking another sip from his can.

Smiling slightly, encouraged by Dean's enthusiasm, Castiel opened his beer, and looked inside of it. He couldn't see what it looked like, so he decided to give it a sniff. It was the smell that lightly filled the basement, and more often than not covered his father. But he tried not to think about that as he took a large gulp-

And gagged, forcing himself to swallow it before coughing and covering his mouth with his arm. He could hear Dean laughing beside him, completely in hysterics as he leaned forward, slapping his knee. The group had turned around now, eyebrows quirked in interest before they spotted the beer can in Cas's hand.

"Aw, first time, Cas?" Ash asked with a big smile.

Castiel was too busy trying not to spit out the bitter taste in his mouth, that he couldn't make himself answer.

Dean was gasping for breath, now, and once he was under control he put a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Ah, sorry, Cas," he gasped out. "Yeah, not many people like the taste. It's something you kinda gotta accustom yourself to," he explained. Castiel glared at him, now.

"Thank you so much for letting me know beforehand, Dean," he replied bitterly.

Dean gave another goofy smile, and now everyone was back to paying attention to the movie, each yelling out a whoop when someone had to take a drink.

"Here," Dean spoke as he took Castiel's drink. He put both their beers on a small table next to their couch. "I'll be right back," he told him, getting up to head to the storage room.

Castiel licked his lips and tried to pay attention to the movie, willing himself to get the bitter taste of dry bread out of his mouth.

When Dean returned, he sat next to Cas again, this time closer than before. Their legs touched as Dean handed Cas a bottle. "Here, try this. You might like the taste better," Dean offered, handing Castiel a pink bottle that looked a lot like juice.

Castiel stared at it, suspiciously. He took it in his hand and observed it, carefully. He could almost hear Dean rolling his eyes.

"C'mon, Cas, this one is good- I promise," he spoke as he leaned over and popped Cas's bottle open. "Try it."

Castiel sniffed the contents of the drink. It smelled a lot better- like fruit. So he took a small, cautious sip. When his eyes widened with appreciation, he could see Dean smile in his peripheral vision.

"See, I told ya," Dean spoke, leaning back as he took a sip from his own bottle.

"What is this?" Castiel asked as he took another sip. A tangy flavor with a dash of the bitter taste of alcohol danced across his taste buds. It tasted like lemonade with something else...

"Wine coolers. This one is raspberry lemonade," Dean explained with a smile. "Figured you'd like the sweeter stuff. It's better for a first time."

"It's... nice," Castiel admitted before taking another sip.

Dean smiled softly now, crossing his legs as he took a swig from his own bottle. "Glad you like it," he responded, looking at the movie, now. Hours passed and Dean and Cas watched in amusement as the group argued over their game. Castiel and Dean were dining on some pizza Jo had ordered and a box of Twizzlers from the movies when the group got to the end of their second Star Wars movie and called quits on the drinking game. After much argument over what was considered a "true insult" and what classified under the category of "cautious" and "whining", Chuck concluded the game with Ash and Adam as the winners.

So they continued to watch movies, and after a while everyone who participated in the drinking game was passed out drunk, snoring away. Charlie and Jo were sprawled out on the biggest couch, a blanket draped over them, and Ash and Adam were curled up on the beanbags, limbs tangled ungracefully. Chuck was giddily taking pictures of his friends, murmuring to himself about how this was "so going on facebook" before he ended up falling asleep on the chair he had been sitting on, slightly tipsy himself.

By some time during his third Star Wars movie and fourth wine cooler, Castiel had fallen asleep, his mind too dizzy to keep himself awake. He was woken up later, the DVD at the menu option and flickering its blue glow in the dark room. Dean had been shaking his leg.

Blinking, Cas came slowly to consciousness, murmuring something that he instantly forgot once he spoke it. He heard Dean chuckle.

"C'mon, Cas, my arm is falling asleep. Get up," he told him.

That was when Castiel realized that he was leaning on Dean's arm, his cheek propped against Dean's strong shoulder. He sat up with a start, dizziness enveloping his mind once more as he mumbled apologies.

Dean laughed again. "It's alright, man. I just wanna get changed," he whispered. Castiel nodded, blinking his eyes and trying not to rub them when he remembered that he still had his contacts in.

"Yeah, I'm g'na get changed, too," Castiel mumbled groggily as he got up and picked up his backpack. He stumbled around the basement until he ended up in the guest room, which contained a small bathroom. When he got in there, he took out his contacts and put them in their case, then brushed his teeth. After he was done, he quickly changed into his sweatpants and thin blue sweater, then tossed all his things into his backpack and walked back into the TV room, where he plugged his phone into his charger. Dean was already at their couch, lying on his back with his arms crossed underneath his head. Their couch turned out to be a futon, which Dean had undone so it could be big enough for him to lie on. When he heard Castiel walk in, he twisted in his spot and gave his friend a smile.

"Hey, Cas," he greeted his friend when Castiel made his way to the couch.

Castiel was rubbing his right eye freely, now. "M'ello," he slurred. He was incredibly tired, but he wasn't going to get on the futon unless Dean offered. So, just as he grabbed a blanket from the pile next to the couch and when he was ready to lie on the floor, Dean spoke up.

"Y'know..." he began hesitantly. "There's enough room up here for you," he pointed out.

Castiel looked at Dean, suddenly feeling unsure. "Wouldn't that be... awkward?" he asked.

Dean gave a snort, although he seemed quite flustered. "Dude, look at Ash and Adam. I don't think we could get much worse than them," he pointed out.

Castiel turned to look at the other two guys. They were basically lying on each other, now, their legs messily entwined and both snoring carelessly. "I suppose you're right..." Castiel admitted.

Dean patted the spot next to him, and Castiel sidled in, sure to leave room between them as he laid down and draped his blanket over himself. When he finally got settled, he realized he didn't feel very sleepy at all.

"Where is Sam, tonight?" Castiel asked in a hushed tone. He could hear Dean shift on his right.

"He's home with our Uncle Bobby," Dean replied, his voice thick with sleep. "Bobby is visiting us for the weekend. 'E said he'd watch over Sam for the night," Dean explained.

Castiel nodded, but felt his heart squeeze. "I apologize for keeping you away from your uncle," he whispered.

"Nah, Cas, don't worry 'bout it," Dean slurred. "He didn't mind. He's gonna be visiting a lot, anyways. He lives just outside of Lawrence," he replied.

"Oh," Castiel spoke.

It was silent, for a while.

"So what did Mrs. Madison give you for your birthday? If it's okay for me to ask," Dean spoke clearer, now. He seemed less sleepy.

Castiel shrugged. "I haven't looked at it, yet. It's in my bag. I believe it is a book or two. That is normally what she gives me for my birthday," Castiel explained.

He could hear Dean move so he was on his side, facing Cas. "How do you two know each other so well?" he couldn't help but ask.

Castiel glanced over at his friend. "We... well, we go to the same church," he answered before looking back up at the ceiling. That much was true, but it wasn't all of it.

Dean hummed in thought. "You're pretty religious, aren't you?" he asked out of random.

Castiel was silent for a while. "I suppose so," he whispered.

Dean snorted. "Y'don't really talk much about yourself, either. It's almost impossible to find out anything about you," Dean pointed out.

"Same goes for you, Dean Winchester," Castiel replied. Dean was silent after that. It seemed as if Castiel had struck a sensitive topic.

When he was about to apologize and say that Dean didn't have to tell him anything about himself if he didn't want to, Dean spoke.

"Happy birthday, Cas."

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed. "My birthday ended a while ago-"

"Shut up and go to damn sleep," Dean murmured jokingly, turning to his other side- facing his back to Castiel. "Night, Cas."

Castiel waited until Dean's breathing grew steady and deep, and the only sound that reached his hearing was the snoring of his friends.

"Goodnight, Dean."

 


	8. We're Getting Too Close

When Castiel woke up the first thing he noticed was that he was very warm.

The second thing he noticed was that it was morning.

The last thing he noticed was that Dean's _arm was around his waist._

Trying not to jerk away in shock, Castiel felt himself grow deadly still. Dean's hand was pressed flat against Castiel's abdomen, and their free arms were practically intertwined, Dean's arm gripping onto Castiel's comfortingly. Castiel's back was right against Dean's chest, which was rising up and falling at a slow and calming pace. Taking a deep breath, Castiel looked around the basement, observing his surroundings. From what he could see, everyone was still asleep. Light was leaking into the room through cracks in the blinds of the two basement windows. With the amount of light that lit the basement, Castiel guessed it was almost noon.

Slowly, Castiel wormed himself out of Dean's grip. His blanket was covering both of them, now, and they had both been cocooned in it. When he finally stood up, Castiel turned to look at Dean. He tried to ignore his pounding heart when he saw that Dean was on his side facing him, looking completely and totally calm in his sleep.

Dean's chest had been against his back.

Dean's arm was around his waist.

They were pressed  _right against each other._

Taking another deep breath, Castiel tried to calm the butterflies in his stomach and the squeezing in his throat. It's alright, they were asleep. They didn't know what they were doing. It was just an accident. It should be funny- Castiel should laugh.

But he couldn't help remembering Dean's hand on his arm at the movies last night.

That hadn't been an accident.

Shaking his head of the thought (and regretting it due to his shallow headache), Castiel went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, for he could tell he hadn't done a very thorough job of it the previous night. When he had that taken care of, he grabbed his toiletries and walked back into the TV room, returning his belongings to his bag. He took his phone from the outlet and checked it. To his relief, his father hadn't sent him any messages or called. Feeling his shoulders loosen up, Castiel put away his phone and pulled out his glasses to put them on so he could see clearly.

He almost wished he hadn't done that.

Now he could see every detail of Dean.

Dean's eyes were shut peacefully closed, his blond hair messy but in an incredibly endearing way. He had one arm under his pillow and the other one on top of it, right beneath his cheek. His nose was dotted with freckles that ran along his cheekbones, lightly sprinkling them. Castiel could almost count each and every freckle that adorned Dean Winchester's face. He looked almost angelic, his full lips reddened- his cheeks flushed with warmth and skin catching the glow of the morning light, which coincidentally highlighted the muscles of his arms as they rippled with the slightest movements he made.

Castiel swallowed thickly as he tore his eyes away, searching through his backpack for Mrs. Madison's present. When he retrieved it, he tore open the wrapping paper and looked at the three books contained in it. The first one was  _Finnegan's Wake_ , by James Joyce, a book that Mrs. Madison said even Castiel would find especially challenging. The other two books ( _Tess of the d'Ubervilles_  and  _Far from the Madding Crowd_ ) were by the same author, Thomas Hardy.

Mrs. Madison had told Castiel of Hardy's work- describing it as tragically beautiful. He had been very enthusiastic to learn more about the author, but for whatever reason their conversations about him sort of ended. He was excited he got two of Hardy's books, and he grabbed  _Far from the Madding Crowd_  and set to reading it as he laid down next to Dean.

After he had gotten thirty pages into the book, he heard Dean speak.

"Cas?" Dean mumbled, voice slurred with drowsiness.

Castiel turned to face Dean and gave a slight smile. The teen was squinting at him with sleepy green eyes, his lips puckered with sleep. "Good morning, Dean," he greeted him.

Dean took in a deep breath through his nose and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "You wear glasses?" he asked, making Castiel laugh.

"Yes, I do," he told him. "Normally I wear contacts, but on the weekend I switch to glasses. They're much comfier," Castiel explained as he began reading his book, again.

He heard Dean squirm on the bed and yawn. "What'chya readin'?" Dean asked through his yawn.

"Far from the Madding Crowd," Castiel mumbled.

"Is that the present from Mrs. Madison?" Dean asked, seeming to be more awake, now.

"One of them," Castiel responded.

It was silent for a few minutes. Castiel had almost thought Dean had gone back to sleep until the blond teen chuckled.

Castiel turned his head to face him as he raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked.

Dean smirked and stretched, popping a few joints. "You've got sex hair," he pointed out, making Castiel blush. "Your hair is... everywhere," Dean noted, smiling in a silly manner.

"It's not very easy to tame," Castiel murmured, embarrassed.

"I like it," Dean responded.

Before Castiel could even comprehend Dean's words, the teen was burying himself back underneath the blankets as he closed his eyes, a lazy smile on his lips. "What-" Castiel began.

"You look good in glasses, too," Dean mumbled from beneath his blankets. "You should wear 'em more, Cas," he suggested sleepily.

His cheeks were warm before, but now they were on fire as his body tingled with butterflies. Oh, geez. Dean was just sleepy. He was hungover and sleepy and he didn't know what he was saying.

That was it.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel forced himself to focus on his book, again.

But he found that he couldn't.

"Dean?" Castiel murmured as he laid his book open-paged on his chest, turning his head to face his friend.

Dean didn't respond.

"Dean?" Castiel persisted, still gazing at the boy.

"Mhmmmm?" A lazy moan responded.

Castiel took a deep breath and sighed. "What did you say, before?" he asked.

"M-didn't say anythin'," Dean yawned, nestling back into his pillow, not opening his eyes.

"Of course," Castiel whispered. "Sorry."

It was just something he said while he was sleepy and not thinking and Castiel should not take it seriously. It probably wasn't even really Dean talking.

Right?

At around one thirty, the whole group finally stirred into consciousness. Adam and Ash complained at one another groggily, telling each other to back off as they got on their wobbly feet. Jo forced herself up as she retreated to the fridge to grab everyone Gatorade for their hangovers. Everyone happily grabbed one, downing it with gratefulness. Castiel sipped slowly on his yellow Gatorade, trying not to let his gaze wander to Dean, who was now up and awake next to him. They had both fixed the futon back into a love seat, and now they were sitting on it, not looking at one another. They hadn't spoken since their weird conversation, and Dean seemed to avoid talking to Castiel overall.

Maybe Dean remembered what he said?

Maybe he regretted saying it?

What if Dean was repulsed by Castiel, now?

What if Dean remembered the position they had been in while they were asleep?

Castiel didn't even notice Jo had been calling his name.

" _Cas,_ " she exclaimed. Castiel jerked back to Earth and blinked at her.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Do waffles sound good?" she asked, raising a dainty brown eyebrow.

"Yes," he responded, "waffles sound good."

Deciding not to pester him about his strange behavior, Jo made her way upstairs, followed by Adam and Charlie. After a couple of seconds, Dean got off their seat, and made his way upstairs to help. Castiel felt his gut twist inside him with uneasiness. Dean hadn't given Castiel any recognition since he'd fully woken up. He just glanced at Castiel once, then looked away as he fixed the futon. When Castiel had helped him out with it, it was in hopes that Dean would speak to him. It was all for nothing, though.

Taking a deep breath to rid himself of the heavy sinking in his chest, Castiel put his book into his backpack. Chuck and Ash were watching the rest of the Star Wars movie from where they left off, and Castiel went over to join them.

About thirty minutes later Charlie called for them to go upstairs. They obliged, each heading up after turning off the TV and returning Charlie's movie to its case. Jo had made a large stack of blueberry waffles, which sat a the middle of an old wood dining table. Everyone sat down, and Castiel noticed that Dean had taken a seat far away from him. Trying to ignore the tightness in his throat, Castiel sat between Ash and Adam. He had to convince himself not to overthink this. Dean wasn't obligated to sit next to Castiel and talk to him at all times. Maybe he just wanted to sit with someone else.

_He doesn't like you._

_He doesn't want to be friends, anymore._

_Dean hates you, hates you, hates you-_

Castiel closed his eyes tight before opening them and grabbed a waffle, pouring some water into his cup from the pitcher on the table and drizzling some syrup onto his breakfast.

Everyone at the table was talking among one another, mostly about how they should do this again at Charlie's house, since she had the pool table. Castiel smiled along with everyone else and agreed, even though he didn't feel like doing anything but hiding at the moment.

Suddenly, Jo spoke to him. "I like those glasses, Cas," she complimented. Castiel stiffened, and chanced himself with a glance at Dean, who was also stiff as he tried to look anywhere but at his friend.

"Uh, thank you," Castiel responded with a smile.

"Yeah, they're nice," Charlie agreed. "Kinda make you look like a mad professor or something," she pointed out.

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "Thank you...?"

Charlie and Jo laughed. "Nah, he looks more like the sexy librarian back in middle school, remember him, Charlie?" Jo spoke to her. Castiel felt himself grow hot with embarrassment.

"Oh yeah, I remember him. Y'know, you're kinda right. Although I found his assistant to be much more appealing," Charlie added with an eyebrow wiggle, making Jo laugh.

"Charlie, gross, she was like forty," Jo told her with a smile, shoving the redhead's arm.

"She looked good for forty," Charlie defended with a mouthful of waffle.

"She's right, there,"Ash defended. "She looked at least twenty."

"You  _guys_ ," Jo moaned, covering her face with her hands.

And so the conversation about librarians continued. Castiel made sure not to involve himself, and instead pushed his half-eaten waffle around on his plate, not feeling very hungry. Dean had joined the group's conversation, talking animatedly with them, all the while ignoring Castiel.

After a while, everyone finished and Castiel helped Jo put away dishes while everyone went downstairs to change. They were washing dishes when Jo spoke up.

"Are you alright?" she asked, stopping her dish-washing to look up at him.

Castiel paused, looking down at her. "Yes," he lied before continuing on washing and putting away dishes. "Why do you ask?"

Jo huffed, turning off the sink when she finished with the last dish. "You seem upset," she pointed out. "I didn't mean to force you into hanging out with us and stuff," Jo told him. "I just thought it'd be fun to do something for your birthday."

"I had a great time, Jo," Castiel told her honestly.

Jo's hands were on her hips now as she gazed at Castiel sternly, forcing him to look at her. "Then why are you so sad? And don't tell me you're not, because that's complete and utter bull," Jo added. "You look like an innocent puppy that's been kicked. So, what happened?" she asked. Castiel looked down then turned his gaze to look into her eyes pleadingly, but he knew she wouldn't let him go without an answer.

Sighing, Castiel ran a hand through his hair as he thought, turning his gaze to a nearby wall. "I do not know, I just," Castiel stammered, trying to think of an excuse. "I guess I just have a hard time being social," he explained. "It wears me out. I'm fine, though," he told her. "Honestly."

Studying his facial expression, Jo nodded, lips twisted into a stern look. "You don't have to worry about trying so hard at socializing around us, Cas," she told him. "If you wanna just listen to conversations or, hell, if you want to completely ignore us that's fine. Do whatever makes you comfortable, for now. We're just trying to reach out to you. And we can go as slow as you'd like, okay? Just..." Jo broke off, looking down, then back up again. There was something in her eyes- something Castiel couldn't quite decipher. It almost looked as if she were trying to beg with him through her gaze. "Don't lock yourself away from people."

Castiel blinked, surprised at her request. "I won't," he told her.

"Promise?" she asked, brown eyes looking into blue.

Castiel nodded. "I promise," he replied, although he knew he couldn't keep it.

Jo smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Good. Let's go downstairs," she suggested, walking over to the basement. Castiel followed, making his way down slowly. Everyone was changed into their clothes, so Castiel grabbed his backpack and quickly slipped into his clothes from yesterday in the privacy of the guest bedroom. He kept his glasses on, not feeling in the mood to change into contacts. Poking his eyes when he already felt like crying didn't sound too appealing, at the moment.

So he gathered his things into his bag and joined everyone in the living room. Suddenly, Dean looked up at him for the first time this morning from his spot between Adam and Ash. "I was gonna head out," he told Castiel as the dark-haired teen made his way over. "You need a ride?" he asked.

Castiel debated on saying no, but he didn't know where he was and calling his father was out of the question. "Sure," he replied.

"Alright," Dean spoke as he got up. "I'll see you guys later," he told them as he picked up his bag and headed up the stairs.

Castiel followed him, giving everyone a wave goodbye.

His heart couldn't be pounding harder.

* * *

The drive was quiet and awkward, and Castiel felt like jumping out the car the moment it started moving. What had he done wrong? Why was Dean so upset? Things were going great until this morning. And Castiel was pretty sure it didn't only have to do with the "sex hair" and glasses comments.

When they pulled into Castiel's driveway, he found the courage to speak.

"Did I do something wrong, Dean?" he asked, looking over at the teen, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion and his eyes prickling with the feeling of soon-to-come tears. He held back his emotions, though. He needed an answer from Dean. He  _needed_ to know what was going on. So Castiel strained his ears so he could hear Dean over the incessant pounding of his heart.

Dean looked over at him, gazing into his eyes, his mouth slightly agape. He licked his lips and closed his mouth, turning to look at the steering wheel. "What are you talking about?" he asked, keeping his gaze away from him.

Castiel bit his lip, resisting the urge to say everything he was thinking, at the moment. Suddenly, all of his confidence disappeared. Why was Dean acting like this? Castiel couldn't be overthinking it, there was something definitely wrong. Maybe he should just leave Dean alone. That's probably what he wants. "Nothing. Thank you for the ride," Castiel murmured as he got out of the car. "I'll see you later," he told him before closing the car door and heading inside his home.

What had he done to Dean?

* * *

Dean needed to get laid. And it needed to be soon.

He was just drunk, that's what made him dream it. He was drunk and Castiel was the last person he talked to- that's what happened. His mind was just delirious- there was  _no way_  he was into Castiel.

But having a sex dream about him said otherwise.

Sure, he felt an odd attachment to Cas, but that was just because he was his first real friend. There was nothing more between them. Hell, Dean was straight as they came. He's slept with more women than he could even remember. It would be impossible for his sexuality to just change so suddenly,  _right?_

He suddenly had a flashback of images from his dream. Castiel beneath him, the air warm. He could feel the smooth glide of Castiel's lips against his own- could feel his palms skidding across Castiel's skin, making him squirm and moan and call out Dean's name-

No. No, he was not going to think about that.

He needed to sleep with someone. That was it. He just needed to clear his mind and  _stop_  these thoughts about Castiel.

He'd almost gotten to sleep with Lisa, but now that he was basically enemy number one in Alastair's perspective, there was no way he'd be able to get together with her. They had only fooled around in the janitor's closet before. She had wanted him to take her on a date, but that offer probably didn't stand, anymore.

Well... he  _could_  try...

So he pulled out his phone and scrolled to Lisa's contact.

And then he pressed the call button.

"Hey Lisa- it's Dean. You busy, tonight?"

* * *

Castiel was trying not to text Dean. Why on Earth would he need to text Dean? He didn't need to feel like this- like he was having his mind twisted into horribly confusing paths by someone he cared about.

What he needed to do was distance himself. He had allowed himself to get too close to Dean. He knew that he shouldn't have gotten too attached.

Dean finally realized that he didn't like Castiel. He finally realized that Castiel was only dragging him down to a terrible social status. He was going to leave Castiel behind, just like everyone else. That was why he wouldn't talk to him, today. It had to be why. He was sick of him and he regretted ever trying to befriend such a horrible and worthless person.

Castiel choked back a sob as he sat on his bed, his hands over his mouth as he gazed wide-eyed at the floor, trying to keep his approaching panic attack at bay. Despite his efforts, his body began to shake. He couldn't help but whimper in shame and embarrassment when he remembered Dean's arm around him- his hand on him at the movies. He couldn't help but feel so  _stupid_ for thinking that Dean cared. Why would anybody care about him? Why? Nobody has before, why would it change? He didn't deserve to be cared about, and he  _knew that._

Why the  _hell_ did he get so close?

_You're a burden._

_You're not worth his time._

_Dean doesn't need you. You need him and you're bringing him down and you're a terrible friend._

_It's all your fault, Castiel._

_It's all your fault, it's all your fault, it's all your-_

Castiel gripped his hair tight, balling it into his fists as he squeezed his eyes shut. "No, no, no, no, no- stop, stop  _please_ ," he murmured to himself, rocking himself slowly on the edge of his bed.

_Distance yourself, Castiel. Distance yourself from him and save him the trouble. You know you don't deserve him. Stop being selfish and leave him be._

"I will. I promise, I will," Castiel spoke.

_It's all your fault._

"Yes, yes I know it's my fault. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," Castiel moaned. He was crying, now. His heart was beating fast and everything around him was swimming.

Before he knew it he was fumbling through his bathroom drawers, blindly searching for what he needed.

And before he could even comprehend what he was doing, four deep cuts were on his shoulder.

_You are pathetic. You're not worthy of him. Distance yourself, you don't deserve kindness._

_You're a killer. You're a murderer, and it's all your fault._

"I'm sorry," Castiel sobbed, gripping the razor tight in his hand, slicing his palm open with the strength of his grip. He was on the floor, rocking back and forth faster now as he breathed quickly, trying to clear his mind. "I'm sorry, I know," he spoke, shaking with sobs. "I don't deserve him. I don't deserve them. I don't deserve  _anything_ ," Castiel cried. "I'm so, so sorry."

He knew what he had to do. He knew he had to distance himself from them. He had to stay away from Jo, Charlie, Adam, Ash, and Chuck. He had to stop talking to Dean. He needed to stop being selfish and spare them the trouble. They didn't deserve this burden. He didn't deserve them.

_It's all your fault._

"It's all my fault."

It was always his fault.

* * *

They were in the backseat of the Impala, and Dean was  _definitely_ not thinking about Castiel as Lisa's arms wound around his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

Yes. This was what he wanted. Of course it was what he wanted.

Lisa's lipgloss was sweet and tasted like strawberries. Her warm body pressed against Dean's as she moaned into their kiss, her voice sinking into the flesh of his lips. She smelled like flowers and candy and not like Castiel's clean shampoo and deodorant. Their kissing went deeper as their tongues licked and sucked and danced together, Lisa pressing closer to Dean, fitting a leg between his and pressing  _hard_. Dean choked out a moan and ground into her, his breaths coming out as pants. Dean's hands were working on the buttons of her blouse as Lisa sucked on his neck, making him dizzy and making him forget.

This was what he wanted.

Dean removed her shirt, tossing it onto the floor of the impala as Lisa shed Dean of his t-shirt, pressing their bodies together as she panted into his neck, kissing him all over.

This was what he wanted.

Her skirt and his pants were quickly ripped off. They kissed and touched wildly, seeking attention and pleasure.

This was what he wanted. Of course it was.

But he couldn't help but feel like her name was not the one he wanted to moan. He couldn't help but wish for blue eyes when he opened his own and gazed into brown ones. He couldn't help but search for the dark and messy "sex hair". None of it was there.

This was not what he wanted.

But he was too far gone and too damn stubborn to back down. He couldn't feel like this towards Castiel. He needed to erase those feelings, and this was the only thing that would do just that.

So he moaned her name. He looked into her lustful brown eyes. He tangled his fingers in long brown hair.

This was what he needed.


	9. Keep Away

On Monday morning, Castiel texted Dean and told him not to pick him up. He then ignored the six times his phone vibrated with messages and calls as he walked to school on the cold November morning.

This had to be done. His affiliation with Dean Winchester needed to end.

Castiel had come to terms with what he must do, and he eliminated all the smaller voices in his head telling him that this wasn't the right choice- the voices that begged him to overcome his insecurities. This should have been done the first day they met. Castiel should have been more firm about the fact that he did  _not_ want to have any sort of friendship with Dean, whatsoever. He should have told him straight out so that the blond boy would give up before he even started. If he had done that, he wouldn't have this gaping hole within him where Dean's attempt at friendship once was. And Dean wouldn't have had to deal with as much as he already had. He could have just continued to be friends with Alastair. He could have been safe and normal.

Castiel was so  _stupid._ How could he have let Dean get as close to him as he did? How could he have been so ignorant? His need for companionship was what weakened him- it was what made him vulnerable. Now it was clear that Castiel wasn't what Dean thought he was. He seemed so upset- so  _repulsed_ by Castiel on Saturday morning. It hurt to be looked at like that by someone he thought he could trust. It hurt to be ignored by Dean- just how he had been ignored his entire life.

Shifting his backpack as he walked into his school, Castiel let out a sigh. He was going to have to find a way to avoid Dean in homeroom, British literature, lunch, and gym. It'd involve some quick maneuvering, but Castiel was sure he could handle it... for a while. Soon he'd have to tell him that he doesn't want to be around him, anymore. He'd have to do it quickly and with no emotion whatsoever. If he let his feelings show, then Dean would pester him continuously until Castiel spoke to him and told him what was wrong. Unless he truly did not care....

Keeping that in mind, Castiel walked into homeroom with his breath held within his throat. His worries were for nothing, though, and Castiel felt himself sigh with relief when he saw that Dean had not arrived, yet. He wanted to avoid seeing Dean as much as possible, even if only for a few minutes. Quickly, Castiel sat in his seat and pulled out his already-completed math homework so he could pretend to work on it if Dean tried to talk to him. Papers sprawled out on his desk and textbook open, Castiel began to write gibberish along the margins of his homework. Ten minutes after Castiel had settled, he heard Dean's voice.

"What the hell, Cas? Why didn't you answer your phone?" Dean asked as he sat in his seat next to Castiel. "I was callin' ya all morning," Dean informed him.

Castiel bit hard on his lower lip and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them and busying himself with his math work. "I'm busy, Dean," Castiel replied gruffly, scribbling down nonsense in his notebook as he pretended to read his textbook.

Dean was silent for a few seconds, seeming shocked. Castiel waited for Dean to get angry and curse him out. He waited to be yelled at. He prepared himself for it.

What he didn't prepare himself for was what Dean said next.

"Are you mad at me?" Dean asked, his voice sounding almost hesitant with a slight tone of worry. Castiel froze, shocked. He quickly recovered and continued with his writing, pretending not to hear the blond boy. "Cas, are you alrigh-"

"I'm  _said_  I'm busy, Dean," Castiel repeated, clenching his teeth as he tried not to give away his true intentions. It hurt to hear Dean sound all hesitant and panicked. It hurt to do this to him. But it had to be done. Dean needed to realize that he did not need Castiel. Dean needed to realize that he was better than that. He needed to yell at him and give Castiel what he deserved. He  _needed_ to abandon him.

Dean was silent for the rest of homeroom (much to Castiel's relief), and when the bell rang Castiel gathered all his things and quickly left the room in order to avoid walking to first period with Dean. His heart was pounding and blood was rushing through his head as he made his way to class. This was ridiculous. Why did he even need to do this in the first place? Why on Earth would Dean even want to be friends with him? This shouldn't have had to be done, because it simply  _should not have happened._

Castiel swallowed thickly as he walked into his class and took his seat at the back, grabbing some tissues and wiping the water laid routinely on his seat.

Now that Castiel thought about it... once he had met Dean, the usual pranks done to his desk had ceased in this class. Could it have been because of Dean? Even when they weren't speaking, did Dean always find some way to take care of Castiel?

Shaking his head of the thought, the dark-haired boy kept his eyes on his desk, forcing himself not to peek at the door to see when Dean arrived. He didn't even look at him, today. He didn't see the confused look that probably consumed Dean's features. He wasn't sure he'd be able to keep this up if he had to. When Dean walked into the room, he sat at his seat and didn't try to talk to Castiel.

Castiel allowed himself a peak at the blond boy. He looked resigned- deep in thoughts that were troublesome to him. He didn't even notice Castiel looking at him.

Maybe ignoring Dean would be easier than he thought.

* * *

When first period ended, Dean tried to stop Castiel so he could talk to him, but the dark-haired teen all but ran out of the room before he (or Mrs. Madison, for that matter) could talk to him. Dean's jaw dropped as he slumped back into his seat, shocked. Why was Castiel avoiding him? What was up with him, today? Why was he being so snappy, all of a sudden? Had Dean upset him? Had he done something wrong?

Dean couldn't help but think about Castiel's question Saturday morning. He had asked if he had done something wrong. Why would he ask that? He had seemed so upset when he asked Dean that question... had Dean given off the wrong signal? After his dream about Castiel he had gotten freaked out. Every time he looked at Castiel he felt ashamed. So he tried not to. He just wanted to avoid too much interaction with Castiel until he could get those thoughts out of his head. He didn't want Cas to figure out and freak out at him. Maybe Dean avoiding looking at Cas came off as him being upset with him? Maybe Cas had taken it the wrong way....

Whatever the reason for Cas's behavior, Dean knew he had to sort it out. It had to be his own fault. There was no other reason.

So Dean gathered his things and walked towards the door.

"Dean?" Mrs. Madison called to him from her desk. Dean stopped in his tracks and looked at the teacher. "It's Dean, right?" she asked as she stood up at her desk.

Dean blinked. "Uh-yeah. Yeah, whatsup?" he asked as he faced the teacher, shuffling in his spot.

Mrs. Madison seemed hesitant. "You're Castiel's friend, right?" she asked. "You're... _actually_ his friend?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, shocked at the question. "Yeah... we're friends," he spoke. "Why?" he asked.

Mrs. Madison seemed relieved. Then she crossed her arms, looking from the floor to Dean, again. "Just... take care of him, please," she told him quietly. "I would appreciate that."

Dean opened his mouth, but he couldn't find any words to say. He waited for the teacher to say more, but she just gazed at him, blue eyes pleading, yet holding a warning to him. Dean licked his lips and nodded. "Yeah. I will," he told her.

Giving a soft, sad smile, Mrs. Madison nodded back. "Thank you. You're a very nice boy, Dean. I'm glad Castiel met you."

Dean didn't know how to respond to that, so he just nodded. "Uh, I'll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Madison," he told her, giving her a wave before he rushed out the door.

* * *

When his History class was over, Dean made his way to Cas's third period class as fast as he could, trying to stop him from slipping away, again, so he could force him to walk to lunch with him. They needed to talk. They needed to clear things up. Dean's mind had been so goddamned preoccupied with this damn nagging sensation that he had done something wrong, he couldn't even focus in class. If he didn't settle things, he'd probably lose his fucking mind.

But when Dean got to Castiel's class, the blue-eyed boy wasn't there waiting for him. He had left.

"You son of a bitch," Dean growled to himself as he walked alone to lunch. He felt irritated, now. Whatever Dean had done surely couldn't be bad enough for Castiel to completely avoid him and snap at him like he had done. This was just ridiculous.

So Dean walked to lunch alone, but when he got to his table, Cas wasn't there. Charlie looked up at him and gave him a smile. "Hey, Dean!" she greeted him as he settled into a spot next to her.

"Have any of you guys seen Cas?" Dean asked everyone, ignoring his friend's greeting.

They all looked shocked. "Isn't he supposed to be with you?" Adam asked between bites of his pizza.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, he's been avoiding me all day," Dean told them with irritation.

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "What'd you do?" he asked.

Dean groaned. " _Nothing_ ," he replied. "He's just been mad at me for no goddamn reason," Dean told him.

"I don't think Cas would be mad for no reason, Dean," Jo spoke up. "He doesn't seem the type."

Dean felt his muscles stiffen. Since when did Jo start calling Castiel "Cas", anyways? That was Dean's thing. He came up with the nickname. Only he could call Castiel that.

Blinking, Dean shook away the strange thoughts. It's not like he owned Castiel. Jo was his friend, too... why the hell was he thinking like this?

"Whatever," Dean muttered, pulling out his lunchbag and tossing the extra one to the group. "Here's his lunch. You guys can have it since he won't be joining us," Dean told them as he pulled out his food.

Ash and Chuck dug in, but Charlie looked at Dean and smiled. "Did you steal his lunch? Or did you make him that?" She asked as she bit into a fry from her chicken basket.

Dean rolled his eyes. "He doesn't eat. So I've been making his lunch for him so he doesn't completely wither away," Dean joked, trying to make light of the situation. Friends could make lunches for friends, right?

Charlie raised an eyebrow, but she didn't comment further. They ate the rest of their lunch in peace, not once mentioning Castiel's absence, although they all felt as though the table wasn't quite the same.

* * *

The air outside was getting colder as winter winds rustled through bare branches of trees. Castiel was bundled in his jacket as he sat with his knees drawn to his chest at the base of a tree. Soon it'd be too cold to spend lunches here, Castiel realized. Maybe he could stay in Mrs. Madison's room....

No. She'd only ask why he wasn't eating lunch with Dean. She knew him too well. She'd figure him out.

Castiel sighed, his breath stolen by the cold and turned into white wisps in the rigid air. He could just bring an extra jacket. Or go to the library. It'd be okay... it'd be okay.

A prickling sensation presented itself at the back of Castiel's eyes, and before he knew it hot tears were running down his face, instantly turning cold in the winter air. Who was he kidding, thinking that he could make friends? Why would anybody want to be friends with him? He shouldn't lie to himself.

Still, though, Jo's words rang in his head.

_Don't lock yourself away from people._

Her words seemed so genuine... she seemed to actually  _care._

_No, don't be foolish. She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand that you deserve to be locked away. You deserve to be isolated and left to rot._

"I know," Castiel whispered, wiping at his eyes. "I know, I know, I know."

It was all his fault. His mom was gone because of him. His father became a drunk because of him. Alastair's family had been ruined because of him. Castiel didn't deserve kindness. He was filth. He was not worthy. He needed to punish himself. He needed to let others punish him.

But friendship beckoned to him. It called to him with its promise of warmth and comfort, like a beacon in a storm. It made promises of a happy place, whispering kind things in his ear. Castiel wanted to reach out to it- let it pull him out of the ice of loneliness. He didn't know how much longer he could stand this.

_You have to. What gives you the right to think you deserve them? You don't deserve anything, after what you did._

Castiel whimpered, holding his head as he cried. "But it wasn't my fault," he cried. "I didn't mean to- I swear I didn't," Castiel told the voice as more hot tears made their way down his cheeks. "I didn't know that would happen," Castiel tried to explain.

 _You let it happen. You let it happen and it's your fault. It will_ always  _be your fault._

Castiel nodded. "I'm sorry- so sorry. You're right and I'm sorry," he whimpered. When the voice didn't respond, Castiel quieted himself, taking a deep shaky breath as he tried to control the spasms that traveled through his trembling body. He couldn't have an anxiety attack. Not at school. He couldn't miss class and disappoint his father. He  _needed_ to calm down.

So Castiel took deep, slow breaths as he calmed his anxious breathing. There was nothing he could do about the tears, for now. Those seemed to flood out of his eyes out of their own accord. Once he calmed himself, Castiel swallowed hard and let go of his head. It was lonely, quiet, and cold in the forest he sat in, but the isolation seemed to calm him. He was doing the right thing, really. He knew he didn't deserve friends. And, in the long run, Castiel was doing them a favor, too. One more thing to add to his list of ways to make up for what he had done.

It was all his fault. And no matter what he does it would  _still be his fault._

What if the group found out? What if they found out what Castiel did? Would they hate him? Would they forgive him?

No, they wouldn't. Who could ever forgive him? It was his fault, he didn't deserve forgiveness. He wouldn't let himself stray back to the group. They were all too kind to him- it made his heart sink with guilt. He knew he didn't deserve their kindness, yet he allowed himself to have it. W _hy did he do that?_

He couldn't let himself go back to them. No matter how much he wanted to, Castiel had to keep away.

And that was what he'd do. 


	10. I'm Not Worthy

When Castiel got home he was greeted by the sight of his father, sober and working on papers at the dining room table.

He should show him his test grade. If he showed him how he earned over a one hundred maybe his father would let him eat. Maybe he would be proud of him.

Castiel had been hesitant about showing his father the grade ever since he saw him Sunday morning. Mr. Novak had been too busy to give Castiel the usual insult or grunt, for he was working animatedly on his client's case. Castiel was grateful for this, because that meant drinking around the house went down from numerous glasses of whiskey and bottles of beer to a glass of wine before bed. This had caused a calmer atmosphere between the father and son, and Castiel had even dared to work on his homework in the living room where his father was working that night. The man rolled a wary gaze towards the blue-eyed boy, but he hadn't commented on it, since Castiel made it a point to work very studiously. They had continued like that until eleven at night when Castiel had bid his father goodnight and the older man gave a grunt of acknowledgement. That recognition alone had given Castiel enough ease to fall asleep right away, slipping into a dreamless slumber.

So, encouraged by the thought that perhaps his father was feeling charitable, Castiel walked hesitantly to the dining table where the older man sat. "Uhm, Dad?" he asked hesitantly, his voice sounding shy and foreign to him in the quiet of the dining room.

His father must have been in a fairly charitable mood, because he didn't even try to correct Castiel's "dad" into a "sir". He looked up at Castiel from his seat, deep authoritative eyes meeting shifty, vulnerable ones. "Yes, Castiel?" he asked in an almost bored fashion, his voice a deep drawl.

Castiel squirmed nervously in his spot, and pulled off his backpack to grab his math test, trying to ease the shaking of his fingers. "Uh, I have something to show you," he told him as he pulled out the packet, placing it neatly in front of his father- being sure to position it far enough away from the numerous amount of scattered papers so as not to disturb them.

His father raised an eyebrow as he picked up the packet, looking at the grade on top, circled in red ink. Castiel felt a surge of self-pride. He had gotten a really amazing grade. He worked so hard and studied till his eyes wouldn't stay open and his brain wouldn't allow him to. Castiel had worked non-stop to get this grade. Maybe his father would take note of Castiel's effort? Perhaps his father would compliment his laborious work?

Watching as the older man skimmed through the packet, he noticed that he was flipping pages with a scrutinizing look- as though he were looking for an error the teacher had missed because there was "no way his son could have made this score". "How did you get the extra five points?" he asked almost angrily, critical eyes looking up at Castiel. "You didn't  _beg_  your teacher for them, did you?" he asked in an accusatory tone.

"No, sir," Castiel replied fast, his heart beat loud in his ears. He was starting to regret his decision. "No, I- uh, well I corrected two mistakes she made on the test. She said nobody else had noticed it, so she assigned me five extra points."

"So you made a one hundred," Castiel's father remarked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Castiel felt his heart skip a beat and lodge itself into his throat. "Well, I made a one hundred and five-"

"And is your math average an A, now?" Castiel's father asked challengingly.

Castiel felt his shoulders droop as he opened his mouth slightly, then closed it. He looked down at his feet. "No, sir," he replied softly.

Mr. Novak tossed the test back onto the table. "Then don't come telling me about this sort of nonsense until you do. What do you want, a treat? I couldn't give less of a crap about what you made on a test," his father muttered as he automatically went back to his work- as if he had wasted precious time acknowledging his son.

Castiel felt as though he had been smacked across the face, but he swallowed thickly and nodded. "Yes, sir," he whispered as he picked up his paper with shaky hands and made his way to his room. His heart was heavy in his chest and tears were running down his face before he could even close his door behind him.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid-" Castiel murmured to himself as he tore his packet in half, throwing the remains into his trash can. "So stupid, why did I  _do that?_ " Castiel murmured as he sunk onto the floor, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears as he took deep, shaky breaths.

Of course his father wouldn't care. Why did he show him? It didn't matter what he got on his test, because it simply  _shouldn't_ matter! He should have an A and he shouldn't have to feel the need to show his father he was doing well. Only idiots showed their parents their good grades in hope for praise. He should  _always_ have good grades to the point where it'd be unnecessary to prove himself to his father. His father didn't have to deal with a reminder of Castiel's idiocy.

Taking another deep breath, Castiel removed his hands from his eyes and he leaned back against the wall behind him, letting out a long, shaky sigh.

He needed to get his grade up to an A, again. He was  _so close._ Castiel needed his father's approval and praise more than anything. His body yearned for it, his mind screamed for it, and his aching heart begged for it. Approval was all he needed to be happy, at this point. Acceptance was all he needed. He didn't know how much longer he could live with just his own depressed and self-destructive company to sustain him. He didn't want the guilt approval that Mrs. Madison gave him. He didn't want the approval he got from his (previous) friends- they didn't know the whole story, so their acceptance was merely in response to their own ignorance of the whole situation.

Castiel needed true acceptance. And he knew the only person that could grant him that was his father. His father was harsh and cruel and incredibly blunt when it came to his opinions and thoughts on Castiel. If he could truly manage to make his father accept him, then that would be enough to fill this hole in his chest. It would be enough to convince him that he wasn't in the wrong, and that he was worthy of love.

Filled with a sudden motivation, now, Castiel got up from his spot on the floor. He would stop at nothing to please his father. He would do anything for approval. He would do whatever it takes.

* * *

Dean had texted Cas after school to see if he wanted a ride. And, of course, Castiel didn't respond. When he picked up Sammy, the young teen was shocked.

"Where's Castiel?" Sam asked as he sidled into the passenger seat and closed the door behind him. "Is he still not carpooling with us?"

"No, Sammy, he's not," Dean replied gruffly as he pulled out of the middle school, making his way to their awaiting condo.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Are you two fighting or something?" he inquired.

Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. " _No,_ " he replied.

"Well, didn't you see him in school?"

" _Yes_."

"Did he say why he didn't want a ride, then?"

"Damnit, Sam,  _no,_ he didn't say why he didn't want a ride. He didn't say much of anything today, in fact," Dean replied as he stopped jerkily at a red light, cursing under his breath. He wanted to get home and try contacting Cas, again. He hated feeling like this whole thing was his fault and he wanted this damned situation to get done and over with!

Sam was silent for a few seconds. "So… you  _are_ fighting," he stated.

Dean turned up the radio, letting the loud music serve as a hint for Sammy to shut the hell up.

The boy took notice of the gesture and remained quiet throughout the drive.

When they got home, Bobby's car was parked on the road outside the house in the same spot that it had been in during the weekend. Their uncle had stayed over for the weekend, and Dean had been sure that Bobby was going to head back home while they were at school, today.

"Awesome! I didn't know Bobby was staying over more," Sam exclaimed with a smile as he got out of Dean's car.

Dean followed him to the front door. "Yeah, neither did I," he remarked.

They walked into the house to the aroma of fried chicken and the sight of Bobby sitting on the sofa, drinking a bottle of beer. "Hello, boys," he greeted them.

"Hey, Bobby!" Sam called, a bright smile on his face. "What're you doing here?" he asked as Sam and Dean both filed into the living room, tossing their bags onto the floor.

Bobby raised his eyebrows. "Y'didn't think I'd leave you two idjits alone on Thanksgiving week, did you? S'far as I know, you two would end up lightin' the house on fire. What kind of low opinion do you have of your uncle, boy?" he asked. He was teasing Sam, of course. Idjits, in Bobby's vocabulary, was a term of endearment.

"Did Dad ask you to stay?" Dean asked as he looked at his uncle skeptically, a smirk on his face.

Bobby looked at Dean. "He asked me to keep an eye out for you two," Bobby admitted. "Not like he needed to, I was already gonna come over here for Thanksgiving whether you two liked it or not," he stated.

Sam gave a snort and made his way to the kitchen. "You made us dinner, too?" he asked.

"Ah, don't get used to it," Bobby growled at him. "I ain't your nanny."

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam replied from the kitchen.

Dean sat down on a chair and pulled out his cellphone from his pocket. No messages from Cas. Resisting the urge to throw his phone across the room, Dean texted Castiel again. He kept it simple, since it was about the tenth text he sent to Castiel, today.

_Dean: Hey, man. If I did anything that pissed you off, I'm sorry._

He pressed send before he could change his mind, and then he shoved his cellphone back in his pocket.

"What the hell is eatin' at you?" Bobby asked him from across the living room.

Dean looked up at him, green eyes meeting blue. His eyes had widened at Bobby's comment, but he returned his facial expression to neutral. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, for one thing, I made fried chicken and you didn't hop at it the second you got home. It's only been a year since I've been around you, boy. The Dean Winchester I know does not ignore fried chicken," Bobby stated.

Dean sat up in his seat. "Well, what if I'm just not hungry?" he asked.

After a snort, Bobby replied. "Good one."

It was silent for a few seconds, then Bobby spoke up again.

"Tell me what's botherin' you, Dean," Bobby repeated.

Dean let out a sigh. "It doesn't matter. It's no big deal, alright?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't give me that bull. If you don't wanna talk about it, that's fine. But don't go being all sissy-like and saying crap like 'it doesn't matter'," Bobby chastised him.

Dean kept his stare emotionless and hard. "Alright," he replied before getting up and picking up his backpack. "I'll be in my room," he told him.

"You need to work on your communicating skills, boy," Bobby called after him.

Dean rolled his eyes. The only one that needed to work on communicating skills at the moment was Cas. Honestly, who ignores someone without giving a good and honest reason? Like, come on, what did that kid want from him? Dean had gotten so desperate for an explanation that he had even texted Cas saying sorry. Dean Winchester  _never_ asked for someone's forgiveness. He never had to, because most of the time he didn't care enough to get involved with people this much. Dean couldn't even remember the last time he said sorry before Cas.

Emptying his backpack contents on his desk, Dean got to work. He hadn't been paying attention in school all day because of his constant thoughts about Castiel. Now he had to try and figure out what he missed and what he needed to work on.

But, of course, all he could think about was Cas.

After trying to work on his homework for forty minutes, Dean gave up and went to the kitchen to stuff his face with chicken and sneak a few beers into his room.

* * *

When morning came Castiel felt like doing anything but going to school. The thought of seeing Dean terrified him, and he  _knew_ that the blond boy would be pissed the next time he saw him. Thoughts of proving himself to his father was what eventually got him out of the safety of his sheets. So Castiel resignedly dressed himself for the day and made his way to school, being sure to take his time so he could get to homeroom late. When Castiel got there it was as the second the bell rang, and he slipped into the room as soon as Mr. Dawson was calling role. Dean looked up at Castiel from his desk, but he didn't say anything as he stared down Castiel, watching him until the dark-haired boy took his seat. Dean was still sitting next to him, Castiel noted. There was no way he'd leave Castiel be without an explanation, he realized. And he deserved one- he really did. But Castiel was  _not_ going to bring Dean further and further into his messed up life. He wasn't going to be that selfish, anymore.

Castiel shifted in his seat uncomfortably underneath Dean's penetrating stare. He knew that as soon as Mr. Dawson was done with attendance and making announcements he'd get pestered by Dean.

And he did.

"Cas, come on," he spoke to him. "What did I do?" he asked, facing Cas in his seat, looking at his friend with genuine care on his normally stoic face.

Castiel stared at his desk. Ignore him. Just ignore him, that'll be so much easier. It would be easier than the guilt you'd get if you tell him the truth. A few minutes passed without Dean talking, again, and when the bell rang Castiel got up and made his way to the door-

Only to be blocked by Dean, who had practically raced Castiel to get there, first.

Dean grabbed onto Castiel's shoulder, stopping him from moving forward as he barred the doorway. "You're not running away from me, again," he told him, an angry look on his face, now.

Castiel froze in his spot, shocked by Dean's touch and words. Although he was angry, Dean wasn't hurting Castiel with his grip. It was comforting, and Castiel's body ached for Dean's support. But he realized where they were and looked behind him where the rest of the homeroom was grumpily waiting for them to move, blocked from their exit by the two teens.

Dean didn't seem to care as he stared down Castiel, and the blue-eyed boy knew he had to speak.

"Dean," he said in a low tone, his voice gruff from not being used much, recently. "Let me through."

So Dean did. He grabbed tighter onto Castiel's shoulder (making the wounds there ache) and pulled him out into the hallway, placing him right against the wall to next to the door. "Talk to me, Cas," he whispered once the homeroom had walked away, everyone giving the two curious glances and whispering to one another. "Why the hell have you been ignoring me?" Dean asked, his voice going from a whisper to an almost desperate tone. Castiel felt his heart sink. Now was his chance. Now he had to tell Dean that he did not want to be near him, anymore.

But he decided he couldn't. He couldn't look Dean in the eyes and tell him to get lost. He couldn't tell Dean that he didn't want to be around him because  _that was not true._ Castiel didn't want to say these things when his heart screamed the opposite.

He couldn't drag Dean down with him, though. That was the last thing he'd let happen.

"It's not of your concern," Castiel replied, looking into Dean's attentive eyes. "I would just rather be left alone, from now on… specifically by you," he told him.

Dean's mouth fell open, but he didn't speak. He looked shocked- hurt- all the emotions that Castiel had dreaded seeing now marked Dean's features. His eyebrows twisted together, worrying his young face as his eyes grew big- searching for some error in Castiel's words. "Cas-"

"It's Castiel," the teen replied curtly. Dean looked so taken aback and wounded, and Castiel wished he hadn't gone that extra step.

Unable to handle the heartbreaking expression, Castiel took this opportunity to leave and walk as fast as he could to his next class.

It was over. Now Dean would never speak to him again.

Castiel knew he should be happy for Dean. He knew that now Dean's life would go the way it was supposed to. He knew that Dean and the others would just get tangled in dangerous situations if they were to remain close to him.

But the selfish side of him overtook his mind, and all Castiel truly felt was the need to end his life.

* * *

Class with Castiel had gone terribly. Dean felt like yelling at him. He felt like shaking Castiel's shoulders and demanding an explanation for his sudden complete shift in personality. Dean thought Castiel was happy being around him. He thought he made Castiel feel better, after being bullied so terribly by Alastair. He thought they both enjoyed each others company. 

Maybe Castiel was never happy being friends with Dean. Maybe Dean had unintentionally dragged Castiel out of his comfort zone. Maybe Dean had forced Castiel to be his friend when, in all honesty, Castiel didn't want to be.

Dean had continually tried to make conversation with Castiel the first day they met, and the next few days after that. Then, almost a month after they met, Dean had basically kidnapped Castiel and taken him to his house where he force fed the kid. Dean had told Castiel that the way he could repay him would be to not ignore him. Maybe Castiel was just forcing himself to be friendly with Dean just as a way of paying back a debt?

Damnit, Dean felt so dumb. It was obvious from the beginning. Castiel seemed so silent and uncomfortable around Dean. Of course it was because he never wanted to be around him in the first place.

This was why Dean didn't try at this kind of crap. This was why Dean sucked at keeping up relationships with people, besides Sam. Who even needed friends, anyways? Dean didn't need anybody. He never did and he never will. Dean pulled himself through his life all on his own. He pulled Sammy through the chaos, and all the while he kept himself together, too. Why was Cas so different than the others? What made that bastard sneak into Dean's field of interest?

Dean wondered and wondered and tried to figure it out. But he just couldn't seem to put the pieces together. Castiel was just a regular guy. Sure, he was strange and he talked like a kid from the damn 1800s, at times. But, in all honesty, he was still just some random kid at one of the many random schools Dean would be attending. Why try and make a connection with the guy when Dean knew he would more than likely be leaving in a couple of months?

Dean's mind had been so preoccupied, he hadn't even noticed Jo trying to get his attention.

"Damnit,  _Dean,_ " she exclaimed, punching his shoulder.

Grasping his shoulder- because, he wasn't going to lie, that  _actually hurt_ \- Dean looked at Jo, a bewildered expression in his eyes. " _What the hell_ -"

"We've been asking you where Cas is," Jo told him. "We asked like, ten times. What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked. They were all sitting at their lunch table. Dean had gone to check Castiel's math class before lunch but had come out empty-handed. There had been no sign of a messy mop of dark hair or startling blue eyes in the crowd of kids that filed out of the room. Dean hadn't seen Castiel since literature, and honestly he was too shocked by Castiel's news to even try and talk to him during that class. Castiel hadn't given him a glance as he walked out of the room, but Dean had stared down the kid with wide eyes, as though he were some sort of rare and magical unicorn. It was quite pathetic, Dean realized, and Mrs. Madison had looked at him sympathetically and mumbled, "Give him some time," as Dean had walked out the door.

Those words alone were what got Dean to check Castiel's math class. Maybe this had to do more with Castiel than Dean. Maybe Castiel was going through more than Dean could even imagine.

He seriously needed to know the connection between Mrs. Madison and Castiel, because it seemed as though those two knew something he didn't. It kinda bugged him that Castiel trusted his English teacher more than Dean, church buddies or not. But he let it slide. He'd have to confront Mrs. Madison, sometime soon. He needed to figure out as much as he could about Castiel.

Something in the back of his mind told him that Castiel truly needed him, whether he admitted it or not.

Realizing Jo and the group were waiting for an answer, Dean shrugged. "I have no idea where the hell he heads off to for lunch when he's not here. I bet he goes to the library or something. He's been really antsy around me- I don't really know what's going on with him," Dean explained. "He hasn't been the same since Saturday morning."

Jo and the others looked concerned at Dean's words, but Charlie wasn't even paying attention to the group as she gazed at the other side of the lunchroom.

"What're you looking at?" Adam asked from beside her, leaning around her shoulder to try and see what was so interesting.

Charlie's lips twisted into a small frown, and she spoke. "Does nobody else feel uneasy at the fact that Alastair and his friends aren't at their lunch table?" Charlie asked as she nodded a head towards the table on the other side of the room.

Dean looked over to where Charlie was gazing and found the table that he had sat at merely a week ago. She was right. It was nearly empty, no sign of Alastair or any of the bully's closest companions.

"That's strange," Chuck murmured, nervously.

"Where do you think they went?" Ash asked, looking at Charlie, then at Dean.

Dean looked at the group, and realized they were all staring at him. He raised his eyebrows. "What? How am I supposed to know?"

"Well, none of us have ever had VIP access to Alastair's table, before," Jo replied sarcastically through a bitchface expression that could even beat Sam's. "Where do you think he went, Dean?""

Dean gave a snort and rolled his eyes. "I  _don't_ know," Dean replied. "Why does it even matter, anyways?" he asked as he looked down at his sandwich, picking at the crusts as he tossed them around his spot at the table.

The table was silent, and Dean looked up at them. They were all sharing a knowing, worried look. "Wait,  _what?_ " Dean asked. "What's that look for?"

Jo turned back to Dean, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked genuinely worried at the realization that the whole table was thinking the same thing as her. " _So,_ doesn't it kind of seem a little strange that Alastair and his strongest back up jocks all left lunch on a day that Cas skipped?" Jo asked, brown eyes searching Dean's.

Dean felt his blood shoot ice cold, and he looked back at the bully's table. She was right. Gordon was gone as well, and he was the second worst to Castiel, right behind Alastair. Automatically, Dean stood up, pushing his chair back with a loud scraping noise.

"We're searching the school.  _Now_."

* * *

Castiel was reading a book when it happened. He hadn't even heard them approach. The next thing he knew he was being dragged upwards roughly by his arms and pinned against a tree trunk, his arms bound behind him and around the sides of the trunk by beefy hands, making him drop his book into the leaves below him. After letting out a yelp and kicking around in shock, he noticed Alastair in front of him, kicking his backpack away and letting books and papers spill out of it as he did so. Then, without uttering one of his usual greetings, Alastair kicked Castiel right at his abdomen, causing Castiel to double over as far as he could, screaming in pain and gasping wheezy breaths into his burning lungs. Alastair sent one more kick at the bound teen, and then threw a punch at Castiel's already injured cheek, encouraged by Castiel's cries and desperate, breathless pleas. Castiel squirmed desperately as he tried to move out of the way of assaults he could not do much to avoid. He blocked a few assaults by kicking, but that only irked Alastair further. 

After a strong punch to Castiel's jaw, the assailant lifted up Castiel's head by the chin, making the wheezing boy look into his eyes. Alastair's eyes were filled with malice, glaring at Castiel as though he were the scum of all things evil in the world. "You know what today is, Cassie?" Alastair hissed, venom lacing his tone. He let go of Castiel's face and gave it another punch in the same spot, allowing Castiel to let out another yell of pain and gasp in a breath before he grabbed at the back of Castiel's head, grasping his hair tight in his hand as he bent Castiel's head back as far as it would go. The grip on Castiel's hair brought upon a searing pain in the boy's skull, making him hiss with pain. Blood trickled down Castiel's lip and painted his teeth, and he coughed, choking on the crimson liquid as it dribbled down his throat. His lip had been cut by his teeth when Alastair had punched him, and now the blood filled his mouth and laced his tongue with the taste of salt and iron. Alastair leaned in close, his lips nearly brushing Castiel's ear as he whispered, "It's his birthday."

He let go of Castiel's head again with a shove and gave his abdomen another kick, making Castiel curl up as much as the two people pinning his arms would allow as he yelped in agony, his body pulsing with pain that spread from the area of affect to his fingers and toes, filling his body with a stinging ache. He thrashed in his tight and constricting bondage, the skin on his wrists burning as he twisted and turned to get free. Alastair grasped tightly at Castiel's neck, making the boy moan in pain as he coughed and let his tears fall, forced to look into Alastair's eyes. "It also happens to be the day she killed herself," Alastair whispered. "You remember, right? You remember how much my mother grieved after you took away her son?" he asked in an accusatory tone, kicking Castiel, again. "I have to go to a  _fucking graveyard_ just to say happy birthday to my brother! And It's  _your fucking fault!_ It's your fault that _I have no one left!_ " he yelled in Castiel's ear, making the teen cringe and whimper.

"I know!" he exclaimed, looking into Alastair's eyes with tear-filled blue orbs as he began to undergo spasms, his body shaking with fear and anxiety. Alastair had never taken it this far- he'd never dare to hurt Castiel so much, especially not at school. Castiel felt fear grasp him as he wondered how far the teen would go. "I'm sorry! I'm _so_ sorry!" he cried out, trying to make Alastair stop as thick tears fell down his cheeks, overflowing in his eyes. He was in pain- _so_ _much_ pain. He wanted them to just leave him here to bleed and cry in peace.

Alastair growled and grabbed Castiel by the collar of his shirt, dragging him up to meet his eyes- all the while the strangers holding his wrists gripped onto them tighter so he couldn't escape. "'Sorry' ain't gonna bring them back, Novak. It's all your fault. You killed my family," he hissed, his eyes filled with so much hurt and hatred that Castiel couldn't look into them for too long, his mind drowned in too much guilt. Then, pulling Castiel towards him and shoving him back against the tree, Alastair whispered something else. "Your momma killed my family, and it's all your fault. And now she's dead, too," he whispered heavily, panting with white-hot rage. He smiled now, enjoying the look of pure self-loathing in Castiel's eyes. "How does it feel to know that you're the reason your mommy is dead?" he taunted before letting go of Castiel and giving him another strong kick.

"Please- Alastair! I'm sorry- I'm so  _sorry,_ " Castiel cried out, sobbing now as he gasped in painful breaths, choking on blood as he tried to fill his lungs with air. He coughed and cried out nonsense as the hands did not loosen on his wrists. "Let me go! Please, just let me go!" Castiel begged

" _Say it_ ," Alastair hissed. " _I want to hear you say it, you coward!_ " he commanded.

Castiel shook his head, crying- his shoulders shaking with his sobs. He didn't want to say it. He didn't want to say those words that constantly haunted him, day after day. He couldn't give in to them, because once he did there was no going back. He'd have a panic attack and at this point Castiel was sure he'd end his own life, if Alastair didn't do it for him. Another kick to his beaten body and Castiel broke, unable to hold up his stubborn silence."It's all my fault! It's my fault they're dead and I'm sorry! I'm so  _so_   _sorry_ ," he cried, completely in hysterics now as his body convulsed and heaved with thick breaths that scratched at his throat, boiling within him. Castiel was shaking all over and gasping with heavy sobs, unable to get enough air into his lungs as he let out hard, wailing wheezes of air.

_It's all my fault. It's all my fault. It's all my fault._

That damned sentence was all that ran through his head as the words continued, flowing out of Alastair's mouth- stinging more than the punches and kicks ever could. It was all his mind could cry out. It was all he could believe.

* * *

Dean and Jo had agreed to search outside while the others searched around the inside of the school. They had checked everywhere- all around the bleachers, the gym track and field, and even the back dumpsters where Dean had found Castiel just last week. The boy was nowhere to be found. When Dean met up with Jo at the track, she was empty-handed, as well.

"Damnit, where is he?" Dean asked, feeling really panicky now as he ran a hand through his hair, looking around him- as if Castiel would suddenly appear, unharmed and talking to Dean once again.

"Maybe he just went home?" Jo suggested, although she didn't sound too confident about the statement.

Dean shook his head. "He never misses class. At least, not from what I've learned about him," Dean told her. "I thought that he'd be out here, somewhere. He likes being places where he can be alone," Dean said almost to himself. "Did any of the others text you?" he asked.

Jo checked her phone. "No," she reported as she shoved her phone back into her jacket pocket. The blond girl looked around outside. Her eyebrows rose in inspiration and Dean could almost see the lightbulb go off over her head. "The forest! We haven't checked the trees around the school!" She told him, brown eyes wide.

Dean could have hugged Jo at that moment because  _damnit_ that was just so Castiel he couldn't even believe he had not thought of it, in the first place. "Let's go," he urged with a pat on her shoulder and they searched through the forest that surrounded the back of the school. There was no time to waste.

It wasn't long before they heard the cries.

When they got closer to the source of the noise, they could see what clearly looked like a group of guys surrounding a tree.

_Crap._

Dean saw Castiel's head jerk forward and fall limp on the other side of the tree, could hear cries of pain.

" _Hey!_ " Dean bellowed as he and Jo ran at the group of kids. They were concealed by shadows, but Dean knew all too well who they were.

Before they could get to them, though, the group sprinted off, leaving Castiel behind, who drooped and fell to the leafy ground with a muffled thump. Dean got to Castiel and Jo ran after the group of kids, chasing them with inhuman speed. Dean grasped at Castiel's shoulders, lifting up the boy gently to look at him "Cas!" he called out to him. "Cas, buddy, are you okay?" Dean asked, trying to get the boy's unfocused eyes to look at him.

When he finally did, Castiel looked horrified.

"No, no- Dean, please," he murmured as he tried to pull away. "Don't, just leave. Leave me alone," he begged, his voice rising in panic.

Despite how much it hurt to hear those words, Dean shook his head, stubbornly. "Enough with that shit, Cas. I'm not going anywhere," he told him, holding onto Castiel's upper arms, now, supporting him. Castiel had grasped Dean's right arm with his left hand, trying to look into Dean's eyes beggingly.

"Dean,  _no._ I don't-"

Before he could finish, though, Jo appeared, out of breath. "I couldn't catch up with them- they got away," she panted. "I recognized Alastair, though. And I think I saw Gordon with him. There was one other," she reported.

"Jo, Cas is hurt," Dean told her. They could deal with Alastair later, but right now Castiel needed them. "Help me get him to the nurse," he instructed as he started to lift up Castiel.

But the teen wouldn't have it.

He started crying hysterically, pulling Dean down with all his might as he wailed. "Dont-  _no,_  Dean,  _please!_  Leave me alone- my fault,  _all my fault_ ," he sobbed, squirming on the ground as he tried to free himself from Dean's grasp, jerking this way and that and pulling at his arms, trying to free them from Dean's grasp. Dean's eyes widened as he sat with Castiel, putting a hand between the teen's shoulders as the other one remained grasped onto Castiel's arm, trying to calm him. "Not worth it, don't help I'm not worth it- I don't deserve it, I don't deserve it, I  _don't_  deserve i-it," Castiel sobbed, curling into himself as he wrapped his arms around his abdomen, now, gasping in heavy sobs as he coughed and cried and let out heaving, spastic breaths, his body shaking with the effort.

Dean and Jo were silent with shock, not sure what to do as the boy cried. Then Dean came back to Earth and looked at Jo. "Go get the nurse. Bring her here,  _now,_ " he ordered her. "Tell her it's an emergency. I'll calm down Cas," he told her. Jo stayed still, though, staring at Castiel wide eyes, seeming terrified. "Damnit, Jo!" Dean exclaimed, and the blond girl started at Dean's frustration. " _Now!_ "

Jo seemed jumped back to life as she looked at Dean, then Cas, then back to Dean. Blinking, she nodded and ran off.

Dean focused on Castiel, now, putting an arm around the sobbing boy as he put a hand gently on the side of Castiel's head, trying to get the teen to look at him. "Cas," he told him softly. "Cas, c'mon, look up- look at me. Let me see ya," he ordered him sternly.

Castiel shook his head fiercely, his hands on his face, now, as he sobbed through his fingers, which were digging roughly into his his skin. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm  _sorry_ ," he cried wetly into his hands. "Don't touch me, don't help- I don't deserve it! I'm not good enough- I'm not worthy- leave me here, leave me here,  _leave me he-here_ ," he sobbed loudly, ears tinged red and voice sounding nothing like the calm, gravelly tone Dean had grown accustomed to.

He suddenly grew angry at Castiel's words. The desperate cries started up something inside Dean and it made his body hot with rage. "Cut the "I'm not worthy" crap, Cas!" he yelled at him, grasping Castiel's wrists and yanking his hands off his face as he looked at the teen, eyes meeting red glassy ones. "It's all bull!" he told him. "Who told you that shit?" he asked, looking desperately into the sad blue spheres that gazed back at him. Castiel's eyebrows were scrunched together, his face twisted into a kicked puppy expression as he gasped for breaths, shaking his head nonstop and murmuring under his breath as he tore his gaze away from Dean. It automatically reminded him of when Sam used to come crying to Dean, and it broke his heart. Castiel was still crying- his face was flushed red with sobs, and tears dampened his cheeks and darkened his lashes. He looked like a mess. A broken, beaten mess. The worst part for Dean was looking into Castiel's eyes. They screamed with so much pain that Dean couldn't bear to look for too long. Castiel's sanity was truly shattered into a million pieces, Dean suddenly realized. Castiel was far gone and had Dean never noticed until now.

Dean kept his grip on Castiel's wrists, even though it made the boy wince. "Whoever told you you're not good enough doesn't know shit, Cas," Dean told him intensely, gazing into blue orbs and forcing the boy to keep their gaze. "And the fact that you believe that crap is just as worse," he hissed, gripping tighter and making Castiel cringe. "You  _are not_ unworthy of anything, Cas! Damnit, man, listen to yourself! Do you honestly believe that?" Dean asked, frustrated and upset with the words he had heard his friend cry through broken sobs.

His heart stopped when he looked deeper into Castiel's eyes and realized… he did believe it. He did believe he wasn't worthy of anything good- that he wasn't even worthy of living. Castiel truly meant every word he had uttered.

Dean automatically realized he had been going at this the wrong way. Castiel was still crying heavily, unable to breath in good breaths as he coughed and sobbed and heaved, his body convulsing with his panic attack.

That's when Dean knew what he had to do.

Sucking in his pride, Dean put his hands on Castiel's shoulders and pulled him in roughly for a hug, holding the teen tight to still him from his spasms, letting the tremors travel through his own body as he absorbed all the horrible shaking the tiny boy emitted. Castiel froze in Dean's grasp, although his body still quivered, and Dean could feel him give in and rest his face into the crook of Dean's neck as he tried to calm his breathing and let out the last of his sobs.

After a couple of minutes Castiel had calmed completely and Dean's shoulder was thoroughly stained with tears and other fluids. Dean still held him, though, until Castiel grew disconcertingly still and Dean pulled him away to see that the boy had passed out with exhaustion, the color in his face slowly starting to go back to normal as his breathing evened and his body went limp. Blood covered Castiel's lips and dribbled down his chin, and his left cheek and jaw were starting to bruise and swell. Castiel looked completely fatigued in Dean's arms, and the blond boy felt his breath catch in his throat.

He found himself unable to help but stare at his friend's bloodied face and battered body. Dean looked away and shook his head, trying to stop himself from crying, as well, his heart pounding sickeningly in his chest, making him want to throw up. Castiel hated himself. He truly believed all the things that Alastair had convinced him he was. And Dean had thought that Castiel's behavior had been his fault. Castiel was broken, and Dean knew now that the blue-eyed boy needed someone to help him repair himself- someone to prove to him that he mattered. He now knew that this whole thing was a whole lot bigger than he was.

"You son of a bitch," Dean mumbled, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched. "I was here- I was fucking _here_. You should've told me," he murmured through clenched teeth, letting out a sigh as he forced himself to keep his gaze off of Castiel.

And Dean held Castiel until the nurse- a kind Jamaican lady that Dean had seen in the halls a couple of times- and Jo arrived, helping Dean lift the boy off of his lap and take him to the safety of the nurse's office. Castiel had woken up in a delirious state, unable to speak or comprehend much, and he let his friends help him into the school after Jo and Dean had gathered Castiel's discarded and scattered school supplies for him. Dean and Jo had to answer question upon question, and they told the nurse everything- how they suspected Alastair and his friends were the ones behind it, how they were Castiel's friends and had gone looking for him during lunch when he didn't show, and how Castiel had been picked on relentlessly before by Alastair and his friends.

When they got to the nurse's office they laid Castiel down, and he promptly passed out, once more. Then the nurse went to work, closing the office off and keeping Jo and Dean inside so they could help her sort out the whole mess. The school records didn't contain Castiel's emergency contact information (since apparently he somehow avoided turning it in), so Dean just claimed it was himself, and had a long debate with the nurse on how he was perfectly capable of taking care of Castiel and bringing him home to recover safely. The office had found Castiel's father's number in Castiel's basic records, and had tried calling him, but there was no answer. Dean had argued with the nurse politely, using his charisma and reassuring tone until she gave up trying to tell him that he couldn't apply himself as someone's emergency contact without their consent and had agreed with a sigh, unable to find any other option. After checking his driver's license and taking his name and number and other information, the nurse contacted the school office with information on all that had just happened and got official permission for Dean to take Castiel home.

It had taken a lot of convincing, but Dean and Jo eventually gained the school's trust after giving them Ellen's contact information, telling them that they'd be taking Castiel there for his father to pick him up. The nurse gave the office Castiel's name, Jo's, Dean's, Gordon's, and Alastair's- after Jo and Dean had promised that  _yes_ they had definitely seen them hurting Castiel and that  _no_ they were definitely not lying.

After a long check-up where Jo was furiously texting the worried group to update them on Castiel's situation and Dean was standing by the door, watching the nurse's every move, the Jamaican lady concluded that Castiel had deep bruising and that he'd probably undergone a panic attack, which had caused him to pass out from bodily exertion and lack of oxygen. She told the two teens to make sure Castiel knew to get checked by a doctor, and they agreed. She cleaned up Castiel, iced his cheek, and wrote down some final reports before she rushed to the office, instructing Dean to take Castiel home and warning him that she and the school would be calling both him and Ellen very soon. She gave him instructions on how to help Castiel recover, and warned him again and again to keep his phone with him. They informed the two that they would continue to try contacting Castiel's father. So Dean and Jo helped haul a half-conscious Castiel into Dean's car, and they made their way to Jo's house in a rush.

Before they got to Jo's house, Jo had called her mother and explained to her what happened so she'd be ready for them (and for calls from the school) when they arrived.

And ready she was.

Ellen ushered the kids into the house. She had prepared a bed out of a couch in the living room so they wouldn't have to carry Castiel up the stairs, and they laid him down and covered him in blankets. Ellen looked worried sick, but she took charge brilliantly as she prepared some food and water for Jo and Dean, and brought out some pain medication for when Castiel woke up once more. Ellen had told the kids to make sure Castiel kept the bottle, then called the school to confirm with them that Castiel was safe with her- after she gave a very long and heated lecture about the school's crappy bullying policies- and the school said they were still currently trying to get a hold of Mr. Novak to have him pick up his son. They said they'd call her as soon as they finished contacting him, and they apologized continuously, with which Ellen responded with some profanity before she hung up with a harsh slam of the telephone.

Dean and Jo picked at their spaghetti as they sat near Cas, watching over their friend, worriedly. Ellen joined them with a huff, sitting down at the table in the living room.

"Who the hell would do a thing like this?" she muttered, seeming truly confused and disgusted at the same time.

"Alastair would," Dean mumbled, shoving his plate of spaghetti away as he propped his chin on his hand, looking at Castiel with an almost angry face.

"Just let that boy wait until I get a hold of him, he's going to regret he ever-" Ellen began, standing up.

" _Mom,_ " Jo interrupted her. "This is something Castiel's father and the school need to handle," she reminded her.

Putting her hands on her hips as she stood up, Ellen raised her head. "Not if I'm around, it ain't. What kind of a father doesn't even notice his son's bein' bullied?" Ellen asked angrily. "The boy had bruises the last time I saw him, how did his father not see something like that?" she asked.

Dean shrugged, although his stomach churned with uneasiness. Ellen had a good point, but Dean didn't want to think about that. "He's good at hiding things," Dean mumbled. That much was true.

Not knowing what else to say, Ellen shook her head and sighed. "Well go on and eat, you two. Starvin' yourselves ain't gonna help no one," she told them before making her way out of the room. "I'm going to make him some soup."

Dean didn't feel at all like eating, but he was afraid of what Ellen would do if he didn't, so he forced some spaghetti down his throat to please her. After he had gotten halfway through his food, Castiel stirred in his sleep and then jerked upwards, letting out a terrified gasp.

Jo and Dean were instantly at his side, putting gentle hands on him as he squirmed and panted in the makeshift bed, looking around shakily as he jerked away from them. "What-Where am I?" Castiel asked, blue eyes wide with fear. "A-Alastair, what happened? Where is he?"

"It's alright, Castiel," Jo soothed. "It's alright, you're fine. You're at my house and you're safe. Dean and my mom are here, you're okay," she cooed, placing a hand on Castiel's hair, who instantly began to relax.

"What happened?" he mumbled, looking from Jo to Dean. Then his eyes widened, and he seemed to have remembered.

"Dean-"

"Cas, don't," Dean tried to interrupt, giving Cas a stern look.

Castiel shook his head, eyes shut tight. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry-"

"It's  _fine_ , Cas," Dean replied sternly. "Everything is fine. Everything is okay, just relax," he told him, green eyes looking into blue.

Castiel stared back for a long time, seeming like he had so much to say, but he just nodded. That's when Ellen walked in with a bowl of tomato soup and a glass of water.

"Hello, Castiel," she greeted him with a soft smile. She placed Castiel's tray on the table next to him and handed him the bowl of soup, which he accepted, hesitantly. "Glad to see you up. I hope you don't mind tomato," she said with a grin.

Castiel shook his head. "No- it's fine. Thankyou, Mrs. Harvelle," he mumbled, holding the bowl in shaky, pale hands as he settled it in his lap and let the warmth travel through his fingers.

Ellen smiled again and patted Castiel's knee. "Now I need you to eat all of that and take pain medication, alright?" she instructed. Then she turned to Dean and Jo. "You two, back away and finish your dinner. Give the boy some space," she ordered. The teens all obliged to Ellen's orders and she nodded with satisfaction before heading out of the room.

It was quiet as everyone ate, and Dean noticed that Castiel seemed grateful for the silence as the boy's shoulders relaxed and he mindlessly spooned soup into his mouth. He was deep in thought, and for the hundredth time since meeting Castiel, Dean wished he could read the teen's mind. After they all finished eating and Castiel took his medicine, Dean decided he wanted to confront Castiel. He was about to ask his friend all the questions that buzzed through his mind- but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He'd have to wait. Now was not the right time.

* * *

Soup warmed Castiel's stomach as he swallowed scoop by mindless scoop. He tried not to think of the events that had taken place, today. How had things gone so wrong so fast? How had Jo and Dean found him?

What was going to happen at school, now?

Just as Castiel was going to ask his friends, Ellen walked into the living room.

"Castiel, honey, I just got off the phone with the school. They told me your dad will be here to pick you up in an hour. Just relax a bit before he gets here, alright? No getting up," she instructed him.

Castiel was shocked and terrified, but he managed to nod. Oh no. He had skipped school. His father knew about the bullying, now, and he'd be furious that Castiel caused a scene and ruined the family name. He was going to  _kill him._ He was going to punish him and  _oh God_ Castiel didn't think he could handle much more of this, today.

"Cas," he heard his name being called. Castiel looked up to see Dean looking at him worriedly. "Cas, is everything good? You feelin' okay?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat at the table as he faced Castiel.

Castiel nodded slowly, licking his lips. "Yes. Yes, I'm alright," he murmured as he looked down at his soup then back up at his friend. "Dean… thank you," he spoke, making Dean's head raise with shock.

Dean seemed to know what Castiel was thanking him for, because he nodded, knowingly. "It's no problem, Cas."

They were all silent. It seemed too soon to touch the subject of Castiel's breakdown, and the blue-eyed boy was thankful that they didn't bring it up. Instead, Jo informed him of what went on after he had passed out and she reassured him that they had collected all of his things for him and that it was waiting by the door. That bit of information eased Castiel's worries slightly, but he was still waiting for his dad apprehensively, his stomach upset with nervousness.

When the doorbell rang, everyone jumped slightly with shock. Then Jo bounced up to answer it and Dean went over to help Castiel on his feet, giving Castiel the bottle of pain relievers.

"Ellen wanted you to keep them," he explained. "She said they'd help a lot."

Castiel gave a sheepish smile. "Thank you," he mumbled as he slipped it into his pocket and allowed Dean to walk him to the door where his father awaited.

To Castiel's surprise, the lawyer didn't look angry, but genuinely concerned. He looked Castiel over and took him from Dean, pulling him into a hug. Castiel froze in his father's grasp, feeling his heart race with the initial fear of being assaulted. He didn't like the hug. It wasn't warm or comforting, but more of forced and awkward. "I'm glad you're alright, Castiel," he murmured loud enough for the others to hear. Castiel didn't respond, but stood outside with his father, standing right by the front door where Ellen, Jo, and Dean were all watching them curiously.

Ellen spoke up. "I'm so sorry about all that happened, Mr. Novak," she spoke. She was very genuine, but she seemed to be hesitant around the man. "If you don't mind, I'd like to help out with Castiel in any way that I can," she offered.

Mr. Novak gave a smile. "That's very kind of you, but I've got the situation at his school all sorted out. Thank you for taking care of my son."

Ellen didn't seem happy with his response, but she gave a forced smile. "Castiel is like family to us. We'll help him anytime," she told the tall man. Castiel was shocked at her words, but he felt warmth travel through him. They cared. Even after all he had put everyone through, Jo and her mother and Dean still cared. And from what Jo had told him earlier, so did the rest of the group. He felt uncertainty try to shove the thought of friendship out of his mind, but he managed to keep it there. As tough as it would be, Castiel would be sure to try and allow himself to make friends. He would give them a chance, since they had been kind enough to give him more than one.

Mr. Novak gave a nod, squeezing Castiel's shoulder uncomfortably tight, making him fight back the urge to wince. "Thankyou, Mrs. Harvelle. That is very thoughtful. Now, I must take Castiel home. He'll need his rest if he is to be going back to school, tomorrow," he explained, pulling at Castiel's shoulder.

Dean handed Castiel his backpack, and the scrawny boy took it. "Thank you," he murmured, looking at Dean then down at the floor, letting his gaze wander everywhere but at his father.

Dean gave him a stiff smile. "I'll pick you up tomorrow, kay?" he whispered so only Castiel could hear.

Castiel gave a slight smile as he looked back up at Dean and nodded.

"Have a good night!" Castiel's father called as he all but dragged his son to his car.

And Dean watched him drive away, feeling a stirring in his gut- like there was so much left unsaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art for this chapter was done by Karovie :) Information on her work and art blog are on my profile.


	11. Mr. Dawson's Hairpiece

The drive back was silent. Castiel's father didn't utter a word as he stared out the windshield, directing his expensive, black BMW smoothly through roads on the drive to their home. Castiel felt nervousness itch at his stomach and he tried his hardest not to burst out crying and apologizing to his father then and there.

He had wanted so bad to please him. He had tried so hard to be a good son. But he always screwed these things up. He always ends up being a disappointment. Castiel's heart hammered in his bruised chest and he fought back the familiar sting in his eyes.

When they finally got home and went into the quiet cold of their house, Castiel couldn't be more nervous. Suddenly, his father stopped walking and turned to face Castiel.

"Bed-  _now_ ," he ordered, disgust prominent on his face.

Castiel cringed at his father's tone and he nodded fast, making his way to his room as he heard his father mutter insults behind him.

When he got to the safety of his room Castiel stood there for a moment, trying to recollect all that had happened in the past few hours. Taking a deep breath, he walked into his bathroom and gingerly removed his jacket and sweater to look in the mirror, assessing the damage. His torso was bruised horribly, his flesh reddened and splotched with purple and blue. His cheek had swollen, so Castiel took to applying some ointment on it after he bathed. He didn't feel like doing much of anything, tonight. The day had been surreal, and thousands of thoughts swirled through his head to the point where Castiel just wanted to sleep to silence them.

Taking another pain reliever, although the bottle advised one every four to six hours, Castiel felt drowsiness envelop him and the promise of numbed thoughts enter his mind, and he buried himself in his sheets, eyes falling closed as unconsciousness came.

* * *

When Castiel climbed into the passenger seat of Dean's car, the blond boy was beaming. "Hey!" he exclaimed with a smile, making the dark-haired boy smile, as well.

"Hello, Dean," he greeted as he buckled his seat belt, then looked back at Sam. "Hello, Sam."

"Hey, Castiel," Sam greeted with a smile as he looked up from a book from his seat in the back. Dean started up the car, and they drove to school.

"So, what're you doin' for Thanksgiving, Cas?" Dean asked as he glanced at his friend before looking back at the road.

Today was the last day before Thanksgiving, and Castiel was relieved. He needed a break from school, even if it was only four days long. They wouldn't be doing much in school, today, since most students left early to go travelling in order to visit relatives for the holiday (or just to skip). Castiel gave a shrug in response to the question. "I am not quite sure," he replied. "I thought I'd just study a little and catch up on some sleep," he pondered.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you gonna have a Thanksgiving dinner?" Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head no. "My father is busy with a case over in Kingsdown, so he won't be home for Thanksgiving. He's leaving at two, today," Castiel replied. He never really had Thanksgivings at his home. The only time he and his father celebrated Thanksgiving was when they had members from their church over. "I believe I'll be alone throughout the break," Castiel reported. He was happy about this. Being alone meant not having the possibility of being abused by his father, and that was the best Thanksgiving Castiel could imagine.

Almost the best.

"Well, what about your mom?" Dean asked. "Isn't she gonna be there?" he suggested.

Castiel gave a humorless smirk. "No… no, I don't believe she'll be able to make it, either," he responded.

"You know, you should come over to our house for the break," Sam interrupted from the backseat. "It'd be better than being alone for four days," Sam added.

Castiel raised his eyebrows. Thanksgiving at the Winchester's house… the idea raised up Castiel's hopes and made him excited, but he tried to hide it. "Won't I be interrupting your family dinner?" Castiel asked shyly.

Dean laughed from behind the wheel, pulling into Sam's middle school. "The only ones that'll be there'll be Bobby, Sam, and me," he explained as Sam slipped on his backpack. "What do you say, Cas?" he asked. "You're more than welcome to stay over if you want," he added, seeming almost as though he was trying hard not to be hopeful.

Castiel smiled. "That would be nice," he responded. "Are you sure it's no trouble?" he assured, making sure that he wouldn't be intruding. The last thing he wanted to do was leave a bad impression on the Winchester family.

"Course not!" Dean responded. "You're gonna have to help with the cooking, though," Dean challenged. "The more hands the better."

Castiel smiled wide, now. "I could do that."

"Awesome!" Sam replied, seeming ecstatic. "Alright, well I'll see you guys later," he called as he got out of the Impala, shutting the door behind him.

They bid Sam a farewell and drove off to school, talking animatedly about what they'd do over the break after Dean  _completely_  convinced Castiel that he  _definitely_  should stay all four days. Dean had suggested an Indiana Jones movie marathon the day after Thanksgiving, and he said that they could try seeing if the group would want to come over, as well. Castiel agreed with that suggestion happily, and Dean grinned brightly at Castiel's enthusiasm. They walked to homeroom together, chatting the whole way there and all throughout the attendance, much to Mr. Dawson's distaste. When Castiel had told Dean he had never watched Mission Impossible (a movie series Dean was completely obsessing with when they had been on the topic of movies) Dean was completely shocked and declared that they'd  _have_ to find a free night during the break for the two of them to watch all the movies. Castiel had felt a tingling in his stomach at the thought of staying up with just Dean to watch movies, but he let it slide, agreeing with a smile.

Their conversations continued on until literature, when Mrs. Madison had hushed them with an assertive smile. Castiel was in a brilliant mood as he smiled to himself in his seat. He was going to spend all of Thanksgiving break at Dean's house. They had only known each other for a little while, and the two have already connected greatly. It felt strange, to be close to someone- to talk to someone and have them smile at you and pay attention to what you say with true interest. Castiel realized he loved the feeling, and he wondered why he had ever let the voices in his head take that away from him. He would try his hardest to never let that happen, again.

When Dean picked up Castiel from his trigonometry class so they could walk to lunch together, he was ecstatic, although nervous. He wondered what the group would say about yesterday, but once Dean noticed his concern he brushed it away and cheered up his friend. Castiel realized he had never seen Dean so happy, and it filled him with an inexplicable warmth. They got to their lunch table and everyone there greeted Cas enthusiastically, not at all mentioning the obvious bruising on his cheek that matched with his older bruise, or the fact that he hadn't sat with them in the past two days. Castiel appreciated the silence on the topic as he joined his friends.

Castiel sat between Dean and Charlie, and suddenly a bagged lunch was placed in front of him. He looked over at Dean, who looked up at Castiel.

"You still packed me a lunch?" Castiel asked, feeling his heart constrict in his chest as he looked into Dean's eyes.

Dean shrugged as he looked down at his own lunch, unwrapping his sandwich as he shied away from Castiel's gaze. "I still packed you one when you weren't sitting with us," he said nonchalantly. "Just in case, or whatever," he added.

Castiel felt his heart squeeze and he smiled. "Thank you," he spoke before digging into his lunch. Castiel had been living off of whatever candy was left over after the sleepover, and he never thought he'd end up hating candy so much. So he took a bite into his ham and cheese sandwich and resisted the urge to let out a satisfied noise.

Dean talked about his movie marathon idea to the group, and they agreed enthusiastically, each trying to think of ways to get out of hanging out with their grandparents and other clingy relatives. Castiel felt great sitting with his friends, and pretty soon he completely forgot about yesterday's antics- mind the small probes of pain he'd feel in his abdomen every time he moved suddenly. Castiel was very sore and he tried very hard to hide it, even though the slightest most simplest movements could have him cringing. But even that wasn't enough to spoil his good mood.

What did en up doing so was the sight of Alastair coming up to him (backed up by Gordon) while Castiel was getting some napkins.

Castiel automatically felt his heart jump into his throat, and he froze in his spot, wide eyes glued on Alastair.

"Hello, Novak," Alastair greeted, a sneer on his face. A couple of people walking by Castiel seemed to notice the two, and some kids even stopped to watch them with interest, expecting a good show. They lingered by, pretending to spend extra time wondering whether they wanted a fork or spoon.

"Alastair-" Castiel began, his voice shaky.

"Do you have any idea the kind of trouble you got me in? You little  _snitch_ ," he suddenly growled, taking a step towards Castiel. "I got fucking  _kicked off the track team_ ," the teenager exclaimed, making Castiel cringe. "And now the fucking office is currently debating my suspension time," he told him, taking another step towards Castiel. "All because you couldn't keep your mouth _shut_ ," he sneered.

"I didn't-"

"Shut _up_ ," Alastair hissed. "You  _really_ screwed yourself over Novak. You'd better watch your back, because you won't even see what I-"

A hand put itself on Castiel's shoulder, and the boy jumped in shock, turning around to see Dean, Jo, Chuck, Ash, Adam, and Charlie all backing him up.

"Sorry, Alastair, what were you saying?" Jo asked sweetly, giving him a smile as she raised her eyebrows.

Scowling, Alastair puffed out his chest. "Fuck off, Harvelle. This ain't your business," Alastair spoke, anger in his voice.

"Oh, I think it is," Dean replied. "In fact, it's actually all of our business," he added. "Because if you mess with Castiel again, then you're gonna have to go through all of us."

Alastair rolled his eyes, and Gordon gave a laugh. "Yeah, some challenge that'll be," Alastair snorted, sizing up Castiel and his friends with his bored gaze.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Really, now?" he asked as he jutted out a lower lip and made his best thoughtful face. "Because, if I'm remembering correctly, you didn't do too hot on our last one on one, Alastair," Dean recalled with a taunting smile.

Alastair's eyes widened, but he hid his expression quickly. "You just got lucky. You don't stand a chance," he challenged.

"Oh, I think I do," Dean replied, staring down Alastair. The two teens held their gaze, and the commons had grown silent, only a few whispers humming throughout the crowd of students at tables. More people had gotten up to watch the commotion, crowding around the teens. Lunch custodian's voices could be heard over the whispers, now, telling students to return to their seats. Eventually, Dean broke his death gaze with Alastair to put a hand on Castiel's shoulder, again. "C'mon, Cas, let's go," he instructed him, urging him away from Alastair with a gentle pull. Castiel followed, his heart hammering in his chest.

"You're gonna have to stop hiding behind Winchester sooner or later," Alastair taunted. "And when you do you'd better bet I'm gonna come after you," Alastair called to Castiel. When they didn't turn around, Alastair seemed annoyed. " _Fag,_ " he called out, making Castiel cringe as Dean's hand tightened on his shoulder.

Automatically, Dean turned around. "What did you call him?" he asked, letting go of Castiel's shoulder as he stepped forward.

Alastair stood his ground, a smirk on his face as Dean walked over to him. Castiel ran up to Dean and grasped his arm tight, trying to pull him back. "Dean, forget about it. He's not worth it," Castiel murmured so only Dean could hear, but the blond ignored him.

"I called him a  _fag_ ," Alastair spat out, smiling wider when Dean tensed at the word. The two were only a couple inches apart, now, face-to-face. "An ugly, dumb, worthless, cockloving  _fa_ -"

Alastair couldn't finish his insult before Dean had punched him clean on the cheek, sending the boy down. The crowd was cheering with excitement, now, as Alastair got back up and wailed at Dean, missing-  _of course_ \- before Dean punched him on the face, again. Alastair fell with a heap, and a shocked Gordon made his way towards Dean, a glare on his face.

"Dean!" Castiel called out as he tried to separate the two, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder as he tried to pull him back. Dean wasn't listening, though. He was livid, his eyes enraged as he fought off Gordon, now. The bigger man managed to get a hit right on Dean's eye, and Dean quickly retaliated, punching Gordon under his chin, making him bite on his tongue and let out a fowl curse. Adam and Ash were trying to pull Dean away, now, and Castiel could see Alastair coming at the blond boy again, fist raised. Dean couldn't see him, too preoccupied with Gordon, Ash, and Adam.

Castiel threw himself in front of Alastair, intending to try and persuade him to stop. But Alastair hadn't noticed Castiel, and was already swinging-

And socked him right on the nose.

Castiel went down with a yell as a burst of pain traveled throughout his face, his nose gushing out blood as he frantically put his hands over it, blood trickling through his fingers and out his hands.

That's what eventually got Dean to stop as he made his way to Castiel, yelling out his friend's name. He knelt in front of him as Ash and Adam held Gordon and Alastair back. The two seemed satisfied, though, and didn't try and advance on them.

"Cas, shit, I'm sorry," Dean apologized, putting a hand on Castiel's wrist as he gently tried to get Castiel to remove his hands, his green eyes filled with fear.

"It's fine, Dean, I'm-"

" _What_ is going on, here?" a shrill voice exclaimed. Panicked voices filled the crowd as people hurriedly retreated to their tables, leaving Gordon, Alastair, Dean, and Castiel at the center of attention. The principal, a short yet feisty woman named Ms. Darvill, was making her way to the boys, followed by a very worried looking Mrs. Madison. The group was still near Dean and Cas, and Jo began to explain frantically.

"Return to your seat, young lady, I wasn't asking you," Ms. Darvill interrupted. She looked at Charlie, Ash, Adam and Chuck, who were standing frozen behind Jo. " _All of you_ ," she snapped at the group. Giving Dean and Cas a worried look, the group returned to their table. "You four, get your things and then come back here. We're going to my office,  _now_."

So Dean helped up Cas, lifting him up by his elbow as he placed a hand on his back to steady him- which Castiel was grateful for, because he was getting dizzy, now, as he stumbled slightly on his feet. Once he was up they made their way to their table to get their backpacks. Jo handed Castiel some napkins which he accepted with a weary smile, holding them against his nose as he made his way towards Mrs. Madison and Principal Darvill with Dean. Gordon and Alastair were already there, giving Cas and Dean glares that were so filled with menace it could kill them on the spot.

They all made their way to the principal's office, Mrs. Madison walking behind them as Ms. Darvill lead the way. Castiel was panicking, an arm wound around his abdomen as he tried to ease his churning stomach. Oh, God, what would his father do if he found out Castiel got sent to the principal's office? Dean could tell Castiel was panicking, because he brushed his arm against Castiel's in a form of comfort. Castiel looked up at Dean, and the blond boy gave him a reassuring, if not slightly sheepish, smile. "It's alright, Cas," he whispered so only Castiel could hear. "I'll get ya out of this, I promise," Dean reassured.

Castiel gazed into Dean's eyes for a few seconds before he nodded, returning his gaze back to the floor. Dean's words calmed him, slightly, but he was still worried. This wasn't supposed to happen. Castiel wasn't supposed to get anybody involved in this. He was supposed to take it by himself.

When they got to the principal's office she had them sit down in front of her desk, Gordon and Alastair on the left, Dean and Cas on the right, a justifiable space between the two pair's chairs. Mrs. Madison stood between them, and Castiel could feel himself cringe at her presence as he sunk into his seat. Ms. Darvill, who was seated in a comfy-looking leather chair, spoke up.

"You four have been giving me a hell load of trouble," the principal spoke, voice calm yet dangerous. "Do you have  _any_ idea how many calls I've been getting from parents? Fighting on campus is  _strictly prohibited!_  You lot should be-"

"Ma'am," Mrs. Madison interrupted. "If I may speak, that is," she began. When the principal gave a nod, she continued. "Castiel and Dean have never shown any instances of violence. Castiel has been provoked by his classmates for quite some time. Specifically these two," she reported, trying her best not to glare at the open-mouthed Alastair and Gordon.

Castiel felt his heart stop. The fight was started by Dean, this time. Mrs. Madison was defending them, but she had no idea about the truth.

"I see…" Ms. Darvill spoke, looking the English teacher up and down. She looked at Alastair, now. "Young man, you've already got quite the record on your hands," she warned him. "It seems we might have to prolong your planned suspension-"

"But  _Dean_  attacked  _me!_ " Alastair exclaimed. 

Castiel sunk lower in his chair. He could see Mrs. Madison stiffen from his peripheral vision.

"That was only because you called Cas a-" Dean began, enraged.

" _Quiet_ ," Ms. Darvill silenced them. When Alastair and Dean silenced themselves with stubborn huffs, Ms. Darvill looked over at Castiel. "Mr. Novak, can I trust you to truthfully respond to my questions?" she asked him.

Castiel nodded, wiping the blood that trickled to his mouth with his napkin. "Yes, ma'am," he responded.

"Now, who hit who  _first?_ " she asked.

Castiel swallowed, his throat tight as he looked down. Dean nudged Castiel's elbow, urging him to tell her. His eyes flickered to Dean, who gave Cas a soft smile as he responded. "Dean hit Alastair," Castiel answered softly.

"Now, is there a reason Mr. Winchester did this?" the principal asked.

Castiel licked his lips and looked up at the short lady. "Because Alastair called me… a certain name," he replied.

"What did he call you, Castiel?" she asked. Castiel felt himself blush as he looked down, then over at Alastair, who glared at him as if to dare him to say it.

"Eyes over here, Castiel," Ms. Darvill commanded. "Tell me what Mr. Kingston said."

Castiel looked at the principal as he mustered up his courage. "He… called me a fag. Along with some other things," Castiel told her.

"Is that when Mr. Winchester struck him?" Ms. Darvill asked.

Castiel nodded.

"Had Alastair been provoking you, previously?" she asked.

Castiel nodded, again.

"Did he threaten you in any way?" she asked.

Castiel bit his lip, looking at Alastair for a split second before he looked down and nodded.

"What did he say?" she asked.

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut to stop the stinging before he opened them and spoke. "He told me I screwed myself over and that I need to watch my back. He said he's going to come after m-"

"You're a fucking liar!" Alastair exclaimed, making Castiel jump in his seat at the outburst. Alastair was getting panicky as he stood up abruptly, hands balled into fists at his sides as he glared accusingly at Castiel.

"He isn't the liar,  _you are!_ " Dean retorted, standing up from his seat, as well.

"Both of you,  _sit down_ ," Ms. Darvill exclaimed harshly. Dean and Alastair glared at each other before they sat down slowly. Ms. Darvill looked over at Dean. "Mr. Winchester, were you present when these threats were made?" She asked.

Dean nodded. "Along with five other people who can confirm it. I had arrived when Alastair said the first one, and Cas and I were walking back to our table when he said the second one," Dean told her, happy to snitch Alastair out.

"You were heading back to your table?" Ms. Darvill asked. Dean nodded. "So you weren't going to fight with Alastair?" she asked. Dean nodded. "What statement made you punch Mr. Kingston?"

Dean was squirming in his seat, now. "When he called Cas a fag," Dean mumbled, seeming embarrassed, now.

Ms. Darvill looked at all the boys, raising an eyebrow. "I see… well, following the school rules I'm going to have to call all of your parents to inform them you were engaged in physical violence on school grounds," Ms. Darvill concluded.

Castiel grew cold in his chair and he suddenly felt the need to vomit. That was when Dean spoke up.

"Cas didn't fight, Ms. Darvill. He was trying to stop me, he just got in the way, and-"

"He was involved," Ms. Darvill interrupted. "He partook in it and for that a phone call needs to be made. He will be dismissed from the detention, however," she concluded.

Mrs. Madison was next to speak up, now. "Ms. Darvill, I can assure you a phone call for Castiel isn't necessary," she spoke quickly, seeming panicked. "He's a very good boy, and I promise you he did not intend for this to happen."

Ms. Darvill gave Mrs. Madison a long look. "Are you sure you're not being biased, Mrs. Madison?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

The English teacher's jaw dropped and she sputtered with disbelief. Dean looked over at Castiel with a questioning look, but Castiel just hung his head shamefully. "How-why, you can't be serious?" she asked, astounded. "I would never-"

"I can't be sure of that, though," Ms. Darvill challenged.

"Please, ma'am," Mrs. Madison countered. "He has done nothing wrong. Do not punish him for trying to stop a fight," she told her.

Ms. Darvill was silent for a long time, debating with herself. "Very well. Castiel," she began as she scribbled something onto a piece of paper, "take this pass to the nurse's office and get that taken care of," she told him, gesturing to his bloody nose. "As for the rest of you, detention will be served after school Monday through Friday of the week following break," she told them. "Each of you will be serving it in Mrs. Madison's room," she said, looking up at the teacher as if to dare her to protest. The English teacher was was silent, accepting the arrangement. "If any of you are to skip detention, you will be suspended for a month. I believe this to be a fair punishment, considering the circumstances. But next time I will not be so easy. If there are _any_ other instances of violence between any of you, you _will_ be suspended until the next year," she told them, moving a wary gaze to Alastair, who was red in the face with anger. She looked at Dean and Castiel, now. "You two are dismissed. Take Castiel to the nurse's office, would you, Dean?" she asked the blond boy.

Dean nodded and the two friends got up, heading out the office and to the nurse. When they were out of hearing range of the office, Dean spoke up.

"I'm so sorry, Cas," he told him, looking at Castiel guiltily. "Shit, are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Dean," Castiel replied wearily as he gazed at the polished floor of the school, pressing his crumpled napkins to his nose.

"I shoulda listened to you, man," Dean replied, angry with himself. "Alastair just pisses me off-"

"Do not let his words get to you," Castiel interrupted. "What Alastair says is meaningless, and you should not let it bother you," Castiel told him.

Dean nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, you're right," he replied. "Still, 'felt good to hit that son of a bitch," Dean muttered.

Castiel laughed at that, and Dean smiled slightly. "It felt nice to  _watch_ that," Castiel told him, smiling now. Dean smiled big at that, and they walked into the nurse's office.

She rose her eyebrows when she saw them arrive. "Not you two, again," she sighed wearily as she got up to usher Castiel to the bed, where he sat awkwardly. "Getting yourself into quite the amount of trouble this week, aren't you?" the nurse (Mrs. Bent) asked.

Castiel gave a shy smile. "It appears so," he replied as Dean took a seat in a chair by the door.

The nurse removed Castiel's hands. "Let's see the damage here," she murmured as she inspected Castiel's nose, touching around the bridge of it. "It doesn't appear to be broken, but there is some bruising along the left side… you've got quite the collection, haven't you?" she asked, referring to all the other bruises that adorned Castiel's face. He smiled slightly, embarrassed. "Well, let's get you cleaned up," she ushered him, patting his arm as she pointed at the sink. "Wash off all that blood and pinch the tip of your nose to close it. You're going to have to do that for ten minutes, alright?" she instructed. Castiel nodded and got to cleaning.

Giving a satisfied nod, Mrs. Bent turned to face Dean. "What're you still doing here, boy?" she asked as she went to her desk to write him a pass to class. "Get your butt outta this office," she told him, ripping the yellow paper from her notebook as she outstretched her arm, urging Dean to take the note from her desk. Dean gave a smile, crossing his legs in his seat.

"Ms. Darvill wanted me to stay with Castiel," he reported, giving his friend a wink when he turned around to face him from the sink, a weary look on his face.

Mrs. Bent raised an eyebrow as she put her arm down on her desk. "Do I  _look_ like I was born yesterday?" she asked, an "i am so done with you" look on her face.

Dean gave her a smile. "No, ma'am, but you  _do_ look very young," he told her, giving her his best winning smile as he leaned forward in his seat. "Let me guess... twenty-three, right?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

The sixty-three year old lady was less than amused. She placed the note on the edge of her desk for Dean to grab. " _Goodbye_ , Mr. Winchester," she spoke pointedly.

Smiling as he traced his teeth with his tongue- a signature move that Castiel recognized as Dean's "alright I give up and you win" face- Dean got up from his seat and took the note, looking over at Castiel. "See ya at P.E.," Dean called out as he gave his friend a wave before heading out. "Nice seeing you, again, Ms. Bent," he told her with a wink.

Mrs. Bent rolled her eyes at Dean's pointed "Ms.", but she couldn't help but smile. "Hope we won't need another encounter, Mr. Winchester," she called, to which Dean gave a smile. Then he was out the door and Mrs. Bent was left shaking her head. "Your friend is crazy, do you know that?" the nurse asked Castiel, who had just finished cleaning up and was now pinching the tip of his nose.

"Unfortunately, yes, I have noticed," he commented as he sat down on the bed.

She observed Castiel for a few seconds. "How're you feeling, Castiel?" she asked him, a worried look adorning her face.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine," he told her. "It hurts when I move," Castiel admitted as he fingered gently at his stomach, "but it's not too bad," he reassured.

She nodded. "That's normal. You're gonna be sore for a while, honey. If it's still this bad in the next few days I really do recommend you see a doctor," she informed him. Castiel nodded solemnly, and the nurse continued. "Your father is very nice," she told him as she sorted through her things and looked up at her patient. Castiel had frozen, shocked. "Poor man seemed so worried about what happened. He cares a lot about you, Castiel," she told him. "You're very lucky to have him supporting you," she told him.

Castiel blinked. "When did you talk to my father?" he asked, awestruck.

"On the phone, yesterday. It was procedure. But he asked me a lot about you and he seemed very concerned," she informed him. Castiel felt his heart sink- his father was a master at pretending to be the "number one dad". If only she knew. If only he could tell her. "You really do have a kind father," she told him.

Castiel swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Yes. Yes, I know," he told her. "He's great."

* * *

When Castiel got to gym, Dean was waiting by his locker. The blond boy smiled. "Nice to see the nosebleed stopped," he pointed out with a smirk. Castiel rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn't have had it in the first place if you had listened to me," Castiel retorted as he grabbed his gym clothes. "You can wait out by the track, I'm going to get changed," Castiel murmured. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I think I'm gonna stick close, y'know?" he murmured, looking from the floor up to Castiel. "Just… in case," he explained, gesturing to the other side of the locker room where Alastair and his friends were, each guffawing loudly and obnoxiously about some joke that probably wasn't even all that funny. "Don't wanna leave you alone near them," Dean told his friend, shyly.

Biting his lip with nervousness when Alastair looked his way, Castiel nodded. "Alright. Wait here," he told him as he went to the showers. He changed quickly and made his way back to Dean. They walked to the track together, talking to one another about further plans for the break. When they got to the track, they ran it side by side, ignoring Alastair's sneers and snide remarks. Then, when the coach wasn't looking, Cas and Dean took off to the locker rooms and hung out there, after much persuasion on Dean's part as he assured Castiel that,  _yes_ , the coach had already taken attendance. So they sat side-by-side, listening to music on Dean's iPod while Dean lectured Cas on the importance of classic rock bands. It was the most fun Castiel ever had in school- let alone  _gym_ \- and he was instantly lifted from the dark crevice of his previous bad mood.

It seemed like Dean had that effect on him a lot, recently.

A couple minutes before the bell rang, Castiel and Dean changed and Dean walked Cas to his next class, telling him to meet him up at his car after school before he waved goodbye and headed to his own class.

The last few classes of the day were the longest things Castiel ever had to endure. Jo had noticed Castiel's antsy behavior in History, and she gave him a smile, not commenting on it as the two worked on a packet, together.

Castiel thanked God that Jo didn't ask him why he was so excited to be around Dean, because he honestly couldn't seem to answer that, himself.

* * *

When Castiel finally got to Dean's car, he could faintly hear music humming from inside. He got to the passenger side of the Impala, and saw that Dean was fiddling with his cassette collection, rifling through them as he searched for one. Knocking on the passenger door, Castiel gave Dean a smile when the teen looked up from his box of tapes. Dean returned Cas's smile as he reached over and unlocked the door. Castiel opened the door and let out a sigh as he took his seat, warming himself in the toasty interior of Dean's car.

"Hey, Cas," Dean greeted as he placed his box of cassette tapes down, one particularly yellowed one in his hand. Castiel returned Dean's greeting as the blond boy took out the tape in the player and put in the one in his hand. He tossed the previous tape carelessly into the box on the floor and started up the car. A hum of music began playing, and Castiel recognized it from earlier in gym as he racked his brain for the name of the band.

"Led Zeppelin," Castiel noted as he glanced at Dean hopefully, searching for a positive expression stating that he was correct.

Dean smiled wide, his green eyes gleaming. "Wow, I've taught you well, grasshopper," Dean joked as he gave Castiel an appreciative look. "Do you remember the song?" Dean asked, unable to help himself from testing Castiel's music knowledge.

Castiel scrunched up his nose as he gazed at the cassette player, as if it would magically reveal the name of the song for him. Then he remembered. "Over the hills and far away," Castiel recalled, smiling when Dean grinned, again.

"You got it," Dean told him as he drove out of the parking lot.

"It is your favorite song from the… Houses of the… something, album," Castiel murmured to himself as he looked out the window at passing cars.

Dean laughed. "Houses of the Holy, yeah- it is. I'm shocked you remember," Dean admitted, giving Castiel a side glance. The dark-haired boy shrugged, trying to contain his blush. He picked up Dean's box of tapes to look through it so he could distract himself from Dean's warm smile.

"All I did was pay attention," he murmured as he pulled out a Metallica tape and studied Dean's slanted, cursive-like writing on it with intense interest.

Dean was smiling softly, now, as he pulled swiftly into Sammy's middle school. "I guess I'm just not used to stuff like that," he admitted as Sammy made his way to the car. Castiel looked at his friend, shocked. Dean sounded so genuine at that moment, and suddenly Castiel felt like asking him what he meant. He felt a dire need to figure out as much as he could about the boy he knew so little about but grew so close to in the past week.

He couldn't ask anything, though, because Sammy was in the car, now. They greeted each other with a smile and made their way to Castiel's house (after dropping Sammy off home) so Castiel could pick up his things. When they pulled into the driveway of the grand brick house, Castiel gave Dean a side glance. Although he had been to Castiel's house multiple times, Dean had never actually been _in_ it. He caught Dean staring at the house before he looked over at Castiel then down at the steering wheel, blushing. He had been staring at it with curious and admiring eyes, and Castiel felt a tug in his gut.

"Would you like to come inside?" Castiel asked hesitantly as he picked up his backpack from the floor of the car.

Dean looked at him with shock- green eyes wide. Castiel smiled, reassuring him. "You could come inside, if you'd like," he repeated. Castiel was sure he had hid his razor from his previous use, and there shouldn't be anything conspicuous in his room, for he kept it fairly clean. When Dean looked hesitant, Castiel spoke up again. "It would be more suitable than waiting out in the car," he added. Dean nodded at that.

"Yeah, sure, I'll come," he agreed, unbuckling his seat belt as he got out of the car with Cas. They both made their way to the front door, Dean trailing pretty close behind Castiel as the dark-haired boy searched for his key in his pocket, finding it and unlocking the door.

"Sorry, it's kind of cold," Castiel murmured as he turned on the lights. When entering the house the first thing one would see is the living room on the right- a grand thing with a high ceiling and plenty of windows. It contained one fairly large TV and many fancy-looking couches that looked as though they were rarely sat on. Intricate art hung on the walls, and a stone fireplace sat below the TV, seeming uncharacteristically cold in the chilly house. There were polished glass tables placed neatly near couches, and there was one grand glass table in the middle of the living room, adorned with an expensive-looking wine glass set. A few bottles of wine and champagne sat on the table, and the living room basically looked as though it were being prepared for a sophisticated art gallery party.

Castiel could tell that Dean tried not to comment on it as they made their way up the staircase that sat next to the living room. It was a long wooden staircase with a balcony that hung over the living room, and the wood was polished and clean- not a scratch on it.

Castiel's room was all the way in the back of the upper level, and they had to pass plenty of closed doors on their way there. With a slight creak of hinges, Castiel opened his door, not giving Dean a glance- nervous that his silence was a bad thing as the blond walked in. Dean Winchester in Castiel's  _room._ Who would've thought that would ever happen, Castiel mused as he gave his friend a quick glance.

This certainly was surreal.

* * *

When they got inside Castiel's bedroom, Dean felt his heart sink. It did not hold the presence of a place one would call home. It seemed as though Castiel were prepared to move out, any second. No trinkets or personal belongings sat on the grand bookshelf or his studying desk. Cas's bed was made and clean, and it looked to be the most inviting part of the whole room, judging by the one faded red sweater that hung on the foot board of the blue-blanketed bed. Dean smiled at that, recognizing the old red sweater, for the color had looked fairly good on Castiel when he had worn it last week.

Castiel placed his backpack on his bed. "I'll just need to get a few things," he told Dean, giving the blond boy a smile when he looked his way. Dean returned the smile.

"That's fine, man. Take your time," he told him as he walked over to the bookshelf, looking through the large collection of books Castiel owned. The dark-haired boy observed his friend for a moment, and then he went off to gather some clothes. He put his clothes in a bag before he went to the bathroom- which was conjoined to his bedroom- to retrieve some toiletries.

The books on Castiel's shelves were well worn, Dean noticed, and he smiled as he imagined Castiel flipping through the pages of those books over and over- pale fingers tracing sentences as Castiel mouthed the words, silently. The image was familiar to Dean, and it made him feel good. But his smile dropped when he imagined Castiel sitting on the bed of his lonely room, reading these books with no company but his own in this large and empty house.

This large, empty,  _cold_ house.

Shaking the thought away, Dean sidled over to Castiel's bed. His pillow contained creases and was indented where the boy laid his head the previous night, and Dean could smell Castiel's clean, familiar scent just by walking near the sheets. He almost had to resist the urge to grab the pillow and inhale Castiel's smell, as creepy as that sounded. A nightstand stood next to the bed, and three books sat atop it, one open and page-down. Dean picked it up, being sure to put a finger between the pages Castiel was on as he looked at the cover.

 _Far From the Madding Crowd_ , Dean read. It was that book Castiel had told him about Saturday morning. These must be the books Castiel got from Mrs. Madison. Suddenly, Dean remembered the dream he had that Saturday morning, and the comments he had made at Castiel. He blushed, putting the book back down as he stepped away from it (and the bed), walking towards the study desk.

Castiel's desk held some textbooks that were stacked neatly in a corner, largest on bottom going to smallest on top. Notebooks were open and scribbled on with equations and bullet notes, and it suddenly hit Dean how much Castiel  _really_  studied. These were the same books the school gave them, but Castiel  _owned_ these copies. So, he had two textbooks for each class- one for home and one for school. The notes on Castiel's desk were simply notes he took while studying, and not homework problems. Dean raised an eyebrow, impressed. He always knew Castiel was smart, but he never truly understood or appreciated how intelligent Castiel really was.

Looking around Castiel's desk, Dean took note of the various stacks of papers and casual office supplies, but nothing else really covered it- not even a laptop or computer of any sort. Why did he not own a computer? After looking around the desk one last time, something caught Dean's attention.

It was a picture of a very happy looking family sitting on a grassy field of a park as they all posed for a camera. Dean picked up the picture frame to get a closer look. There was a mom and a dad with three little kids. Dean recognized the father as Castiel's after gazing at the face for a few seconds. He looked a lot younger here- with a  _lot_ less stubble- but it was definitely the same man. Stern, authoritative eyes adorned him, settled into a strong and chiseled face that was softly framed by dark, wavy hair. But the biggest difference in the photo was he looked  _happier._ His eyes were firm, but they were filled with love, and his arm was wound loosely around his wife as he smiled the smile of a real, proud, happy father. The mother was laughing, bright blue eyes (that Dean instantly recognized with a smirk) shining bright with so much pure goodness that Dean couldn't help but smile softly. Her light brown hair was long and messily tangled in loose waves, and it brushed lightly onto the baby in her arms. The infant couldn't have been more than a couple months old, but Dean instantly recognized it as Castiel. The baby's eyes were the brightest of blue, Castiel's signature puzzled look adorning the child's features as he held onto one of his mother's fingers with his tiny fist, a soft and long mop of dark hair on the baby's head.

A little girl Dean had never seen before (who couldn't have been older than six) was clothed in a pale pink dress as she sat at the feet of Castiel's mother. She was plopped down next to a boy Dean didn't recognize, either. Dean guessed the boy was her younger brother, based on the kiss she was giving him on his cheek and the goofy face he was making at the camera in return- his tongue sticking out as chocolate brown eyes twisted in a silly way. The little girl had fiery red hair that was down and casual in loose waves- just like her mother. The boy next to her had mouse-brown hair and eyes that held promises of jokes and laughter. Were these two kids Castiel's siblings? Dean observed the photo a little longer, until a shocked voice spoke from the other side of the room.

"Oh- sorry, I forgot to put that away," Castiel apologized as he made his way over to Dean side, looking nervous. Dean looked over at Castiel with a start, but he ignored the teen's statement.

"Is this your family?" he asked, looking into Castiel's eyes.

The dark-haired teen's fingers were strewn together as he twiddled them nervously, looking down at the frame held in Dean's hands. He nodded. "Yes," he responded. "Yes, they are," he confirmed.

Dean looked back down at the picture. "Who are these two?" he asked, pointing at the little girl and boy.

Castiel licked his lips as he looked over Dean's shoulder at the picture. "That's my brother and sister," he answered.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you had any siblings," he commented.

Castiel shrugged. "They don't live here, anymore. They left a long time ago," he informed him. "My sister, Anna, is working as an artist in this studio in New York," Castiel explained. "Last I heard, she got some pieces into a museum," he said proudly, giving a loving smile. "My brother, Gabriel," Castiel continued, gesturing hesitantly towards the picture, "is living in New York, as well. He's working in advertising," Castiel told Dean.

Dean looked back at the photo. "Do you ever visit them?" he asked.

Castiel bit his lip, seeming panicked at the question. "No. No I haven't seen them since they left," he replied. We email every other year, but that's it," Castiel explained solemnly.

"Why don't you talk to them, more?" Dean asked, baffled as he looked at his friend. Castiel didn't look up at him, gazing down at the picture, sadly.

"It's… a difficult situation," he answered. "I can't really explain it," he spoke Dean before the blond could raise questions.

Dean respected Castiel's silence as he continued to look at the picture. "Is that your mom?" he asked, looking over at Castiel.

Castiel smiled. "Yes," he replied, seeming happier now at the sight of her picture- if not in a sad sort of way.

Dean smiled slightly. "You said she isn't here," he responded. "Is she off visiting your brother and sister or something?" he asked, curious. Or perhaps his parents were divorced? Dean had never seen Castiel's mom....

Castiel swallowed thickly. "No- not exactly," he mumbled.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "Where is she?" he asked.

Licking his lips, Castiel offered Dean a sad smile. "She died in a car crash," he informed his friend.

Dean's eyes widened, his heart stopping in his chest. "Oh, God- Cas, I'm so sorry," he apologized.

Castiel shook his head. "It's okay," he reassured him. "It was a long time ago."

Silence fell between the two boys as they looked at the picture held in Dean's hands. "She's beautiful," Dean spoke after a moment, his voice filled with sincerity.

Castiel smiled. "She was," he agreed, taking the photo gingerly from Dean, and placing it down on its spot on his desk.

Dean took a deep breath and cleared his throat as he looked at his friend. "You ready?" he asked, eyeing the filled backpack that sat on Castiel's bed, a little bigger than Castiel's school bag he carried around, but still quite small. Castiel nodded as he went to retrieve his bag. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?" he inquired.

Castiel shifted the bag on his shoulders as he tilted his head to the side in his puzzled expression. He glanced back at the bag. "Yes?" he responded. "It is all I need."

Dean looked at Castiel, giving a smirk. "You do realize you'll be at my house for four days, right?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. "Yes, I believe that thought ran through my head as I packed," he replied sarcastically.

"Alright, alright," Dean replied. "Let's go," he told him.

So they left Castiel's house and made their way to the car- Castiel locking the door behind him. When they left the house- which was illogically colder than the air outside- the brooding atmosphere had been lifted and the two friends continued to talk about music and what they'd do tonight. Cas and Dean agreed that they'd try and sleep early tonight to be prepared to make Thanksgiving dinner, tomorrow. The two teens were exhausted, anyways, and they were more than happy to sleep at ten like "a bunch of fifth graders", as Dean had put it.

Upon arriving to Dean's house, though, they were greeted by a very angry Bobby.

"Why the  _hell_ did I get a call about you startin' a fight at school?" Bobby asked as he came over to the front door, phone in his hand. When he saw Castiel, he paused. "Who're you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as his tyrant suddenly cut off.

Castiel's eyes were wide with shock at the sudden and abrupt change in mood, but Dean nudged his arm to urge him to respond. "Uh- my name is Castiel," he responded. "Castiel Novak," he clarified.

"Ah- yeah, they mentioned you on the phone," Bobby recalled, turning his attention to Dean, again. "Speaking of which, do you have  _any_ idea the lengths I went through to prevent your damn school from calling your father?" Bobby asked. Sam was in the dining room right by the front door, and he was snickering as read a book, seeming thoroughly amused with the situation.

Dean raised a hand in defense. "Listen Bobby, it's not what you think-"

"It  _better_  not be," the older man growled.

Dean rolled his eyes. "It was this dick, Alastair. He had it coming, for a while," Dean explained. "He's a real ass."

"You're gonna meet dicks all throughout your life, boy," Bobby told Dean, talking as though the blond teen were an incompetent five-year old. "It ain't no excuse for you to attack each'n every one of 'em!"

Dean sighed. " _Bobby_ -"

"Damnit, Dean, is that a black eye?" Bobby noted wearily.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I got hit," he told him.

Bobby raised an eyebrow at that. "You're getting rusty, son," he commented before looking over at Castiel, Sam laughing in the background. "Castiel, is it?" he asked. Castiel nodded fast, giving Dean's uncle his full attention. "You look like a smart n' sensible kid, Castiel. Make sure Dean doesn't do more dumb as hell things in school, alright?"

With a snort from Sam and an eyeroll from Dean, Castiel nodded again.

"Cas is gonna be staying over for the break," Dean informed Bobby as he led Castiel to his room by the arm- eager to stray him away from the chaos that was Bobby Singer.

"Make yourself at home," Bobby called out before the teens made their way inside Dean's room. Dean shut the door with an exasperated look on his face.

He let out a sigh- eyes wide as he looked from the floor to Castiel. "Sorry 'bout that," he apologized with a smirk as he tossed his backpack onto his bed.

Castiel's eyebrows knit together with worry. "Did I get you in trouble?" he asked as Dean plopped himself down on his bed, taking his boots off.

Dean laughed lightly. "Nah, Cas, don't worry about Bobby. He means well, once you get passed the usual insults. Y'learn to live with it, I guess," Dean mused.

Castiel nodded, giving a smile. "That's good, I suppose," he replied.

Dean looked up at him from his seat on his bed. He got up and shucked off his jacket, tossing it onto his bed. "You can drop your backpack anywhere," he told Castiel.

Cas placed his backpack neatly by Dean's bed, and placed his shoes there as well. "You hungry?" Dean asked as he made his way to the door, holding it open for them.

Castiel smiled. "I could eat."

* * *

They dined on leftover fried chicken in the living room as they watched haunted house documentaries and ghost sightings television programs, sitting side by side on the big plush couch that Castiel had slept on the previous week. Sam had joined later on, sitting next to Castiel as the two chatted throughout the shows about paranormal history experiences they had heard about, occasionally being hushed by an irritated Dean who would mumble insults like "nerd" to the two teens. Dean would laugh at some documented hauntings, commenting on how dumb the ghost stories were every now and then, although he never did change the channel.

Castiel had a lot of fun, and he truly never remembered feeling this relaxed and at home. Even Bobby had joined them later on, bringing a couple of root beers for everyone as he sat on a chair and watched the shows with apparent disinterest.

When it had gotten as late as ten thirty, everyone retreated to bed for the night. Dean prepared a mattress on the floor of his room for Castiel, and the two had covered it up with plenty of soft and warm blankets and sheets. When they got changed into night clothes and brushed their teeth, they laid down in their beds and whispered to one another about random things that popped up in their heads- ranging from the ghost show they had watched to how completely fake Mr. Dawson's new hairpiece looked- laughing at its ridiculousness until the two teens couldn't breath, tears streaming down their faces as they gasped for air. Castiel couldn't recall ever laughing that hard, and it hurt his damaged abdomen. But the laughing felt great and warmed him from the inside out. He definitely needed to laugh like that more often.

After minutes of silence, Dean spoke up in a hushed tone.

"Cas?" he asked.

"Mhmm?" Castiel replied.

Dean was silent for a bit, and Castiel had almost thought the boy had gone back to sleep before he spoke hesitantly. "My mom died, too," he told his friend softly. "A long time ago- back when I was eight," he explained.

Castiel was shocked at the information, not sure how to respond. "I'm sorry," he whispered sadly- finding it was the only thing he could really manage to say.

He heard Dean let out a breathy laugh. "Yeah, well, you told me about your mom," Dean replied. "I guess it's only fair you know about mine," he reasoned.

Castiel was silent.

"Goodnight, Cas," Dean mumbled sleepily, turning on his bed as it squeaked slightly beneath his weight.

"Goodnight, Dean."


	12. The Art of Pie

"Cas. Cas, c'mon, wake up," Dean's voice spoke, a foot kicking lightly against Castiel's arm. "We gotta go to the store," Dean told him.

Castiel murmured nonsense in his sleepy haze, opening his eyes to squint at Dean accusingly, as if the blond boy had put something fowl in his morning tea. Dean gave Cas a big smile from his spot by his closet. "C'mon, Cas, up and at 'em," Dean encouraged, clapping his hands together as he shed off his night shirt, slipping on a black t-shirt and green button up.

"Nooooo," Castiel murmured, curling up in a fetal position as he made a cocoon out of his sheets, burying his face into his pillow.

"Yesssss," Dean mocked, tugging at Castiel's sheets while the thin boy gripped onto them stubbornly, moaning in protest ("Dean, go away", "Five more minutes", "I'm awake, I'm just resting my eyes"). "Get your skinny ass out of bed," Dean grunted as he yanked at the sheets harder, finally managing to pull them off the resistant teen.

When the sheets had been pulled off and cold air attacked at Castiel's thin sweatshirt, seeping through to meet his skin, the blue-eyed boy forced himself to sit up, balling sleeved hands into his closed, dry eyes as he rubbed them, grumpily.

"W-time's it?" Castiel murmured as he opened his eyes, gazing sleepily at the fresh morning light that trickled through peeks in Dean's blinds, highlighting everything with a clean, white light.

"It's eight," Dean replied as he slipped on a worn out black leather jacket. "We gotta get to the supermarket early to get a turkey and some other stuff," Dean explained when Castiel groaned in a form of a complaint.

"Alright," Cas yawned, getting up on wobbly feet. "I'm up," he reassured his friend as he fumbled through the pockets of his bag for his glasses, which he slipped on, sleepily. The clear vision that his spectacles brought woke him up some more and, when Dean retreated to the bathroom, he slipped a black wool cardigan on over a blue v-neck. His skin tingled with warmth from his thick cardigan, and he hummed involuntarily, dragging the sleeves down to his cold hands, where he gripped the wool tight. Castiel quickly changed into some jeans and slipped on his shoes, which were in their spot by Dean's bed.

After slipping his phone into his pocket and putting on some deodorant, Cas grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste and left to join Dean in the bathroom, which was in the hall right between Sam and Dean's room. When he walked in, Dean looked up from spitting mouthwash into the sink and gave Cas a smile after observing him.

"You're wearing your glasses," he noted, smugly.

Castiel felt his cheeks warm. "Yes, I am. My eyes were dry," he stated, trying to dissuade Dean of any thought that he had worn them for him. Because of course he hadn't. Of course he wasn't trying to impress him. That would be ridiculous. Why would he need to impress his friend?

Ignoring Dean's smirk at Castiel's embarrassment, the dark-haired boy began brushing his teeth at the sink, working extra hard not to let his gaze wander to his friend. Dean must have thought Cas was an intense tooth-brusher, because Castiel was scrubbing his teeth fiercely before he spit and rinsed as he avoided Dean's gaze.

When Dean left the bathroom, Castiel combed his fingers through his wild mane of hair as he looked in the mirror. He'd need a haircut, soon. His "sex hair" was sticking up messily, and had grown quite long. Castiel had been cutting his own hair for the past few years, and now he was sort of getting the hang of it. He was kind of nervous to cut it, now, though. The blue-eyed boy knew he'd end up putting it off as long as he could.

Sighing, Castiel trudged out of the bathroom to the kitchen where Dean and Bobby were lounging. Dean was pouring himself a cup of coffee when Cas walked in.

"You drink coffee, Cas?" Dean asked as he handed a mug to Bobby and stretched out the carafe towards Castiel in a gesture of offering. Castiel gave a small smile.

"No, I do not," he responded. "Thank you, though," he said as he took a seat at the dining table, wincing slightly at the pain that shot through his abdomen.

As he gingerly rubbed his sore stomach, a tiny pain relief tablet and glass of water was put in front of him. Castiel looked up to see Dean giving him a knowing look while Bobby raised a confused eyebrow from his seat at the dining table.

"Thank you," Castiel murmured as he downed the pill and water, sighing as he leaned back in his seat.

Sam bounded into the kitchen not too soon after that, and they all made their way to Bobby's car to head to the grocery store. Dean and Cas sat in the back while Sam took shotgun, and Castiel listened to Sam and Dean argue about how many pies was an adequate amount for a Thanksgiving of four with a smile on his face. Bobby eventually tamed the squabble by saying it was a given for Dean to be in charge of the pies, and with a few murmurs from Sammy and an "In your  _face!_ " from Dean, Sam began to talk animatedly about other things they'd need.

When they arrived at the supermarket, everyone agreed to split up in order to make it through the crowd of people in the market. Apparently, Dean wasn't the only one with the bright idea of getting up early to get the goods.

So after dividing the sheet of paper that contained their list in half, Sam and Bobby set off while Dean and Castiel went in search of cranberry sauce. Castiel strolled the cart while Dean lead, and he gazed wide-eyed at all the food around him. Dean gave a laugh when he noticed.

"You look like you're in heaven," Dean pointed out with a snicker as he tossed a plastic cup of cranberry sauce in the cart Castiel was pushing.

"There's just… a lot of food," Castiel spoke weakly, his eyes on a particularly appetizing-looking tray of potato salad that a woman was putting into her cart. He caught a whiff of french bread from the bakery section, and Castiel could feel his stomach rumble.

"Yeah, that's because food is a common thing at a grocery store," Dean said with a smile as he pulled Cas's cart along. "Now, c'mon, let's get to the good part," Dean urged as he led them to the baking section. While he was there he got a big bag of flour, some salt, and sugar. He then grabbed a can of pumpkin, a can of cherries, and a can of blueberries. Castiel raised an eyebrow.

"I thought  _pumpkin_  pie was the traditional Thanksgiving dessert," Castiel noted with a smile when Dean laughed sheepishly.

"Yeah, well, in the Winchester household there is no leaving basic pies out from any holiday. At least not while I'm still breathin'," Dean spoke as he got some final pie ingredients and a few pie dishes. They then moved on to get some eggs, butter, cheese, broccoli, and other ingredients for dishes Dean was planning on making. Pretty soon they bumped into Sam and Bobby, who were both laughing maniacally by their full cart, a turkey in Bobby's hands.

Castiel and Dean both raised inquisitive eyebrows. "What's so funny?" Dean asked Sam, who looked up at his brother with a big smile.

He snorted one last time before he spoke, out of breath. "Bobby wrestling with an old lady for the last turkey," Sam explained, laughing a little before he continued. "She practically kicked his ass," he told the two teens.

"Well pardon me if I didn't have the advantage of a purse filled with bricks," Bobby replied sarcastically, recovering from his laughing, now, as he gripped the turkey protectively, as if the old lady would jump him at any moment.

"You should've seen it, Dean," Sam began. "The lady took it from him, and Bobby had to grab it back from her hands and run away through a bunch of aisles with her on his tail until a store manager finally stopped her from chasing him."

"For a woman that could barely stand on her own two feet she sure knew how to put up a fight when it came to this goddamn turkey," Bobby growled before throwing it in the cart with an air of triumph.

Castiel was smiling big and Dean smiled, shaking his head. "Well, Cas and I are done. You guys got everything?" he asked.

"All set," Bobby confirmed.

So they bought all their things and got in Bobby's car, Sam explaining in vivid detail the amount of ferocity the old woman had unleashed upon the Winchester's poor uncle. Castiel laughed so hard his sore chest hurt, and Dean rolled his eyes at first, tipping his head back in laughter every now and then. Castiel laughed a lot when he was around the Winchesters, he noted. It was a nice change from his previous living environment.

When they got home they let the groceries chill for a couple of hours, agreeing to start cooking at twelve. Cas, Dean, and Sam decided to play Sorry while they waited, and Sam fetched the board game from a box in his room, placing it on the table in the living room where everyone sat on the floor. They went through three rounds, Cas winning two times and Sam winning once. Dean was so close to winning each time, but the winning title continuously slipped away from him and left him grumpy. Once Sammy beat him, Dean insulted the game and shoved the board to the ground, causing Cas to laugh and Sam to call him a sore loser. Castiel then proceeded to pick up the game pieces until Dean felt guilty and got to the floor to help clean up the mess.

They settled on playing a game of Clue when Sam and Castiel realized that Dean would definitely not be up for another round of Sorry. Dean found the old, battered Clue game, and he proved to be quite good at it. He won one round and Sam won the next. When they looked at the time and realized it was already half past twelve, the boys got Bobby and then got straight to cooking. Bobby and Sam worked on their prized turkey while Dean and Cas worked on their broccoli casserole.

"Alright, so I'm gonna need you to help me cut up the broccoli," Dean told Castiel as he handed him a few small stalks of the bushy vegetable. "Cut them into small pieces and put them into that bowl," he instructed as he gave Castiel a knife, as well, and pointed at a blue bowl that sat between them on the counter top.

The dark-haired boy nodded, taking the knife from Dean as he watched the blond cut up the broccoli with quick expertise. Castiel was distracted for a moment as he gazed at Dean's lean and muscled arms (he had taken off his leather jacket and had rolled up the sleeves to his green overshirt)- his strong and calloused, yet gentle, hands grasping onto the broccoli as quick lashes from his knife sliced it into pieces.

Castiel suddenly relived the memory of Dean's warm arms around him in a hug- calming him from the shaking gasps of breath that racked at his body. He remembered feeling those hands, one supportive on his lower back and the other placed firmly between his shoulder blades. Castiel had no idea how such a simple act could calm the worst anxiety attack he had ever had, but it did. He couldn't help but place his face into Dean's neck as he inhaled shuddering breaths, his body aching and crying with pain. And Castiel remembered Dean giving into him, letting him rest his face in his neck as he leaned his head ever so slightly on him. His arms felt like an unbreakable shelter that nobody was allowed in besides Castiel. His hands had rubbed small circles into Castiel's back, soothing him as he held him, silently. And Castiel wrapped his arms around himself, calming his breaths before he slipped into unconsciousness, knowing he'd be alright because Dean was there.

Blinking, Castiel averted his eyes to his broccoli and chopped it up carefully, definitely not as fast as the elder Winchester. By the time Castiel finished with his first broccoli head, Dean had chopped up all four of his. He glanced over at his friend and gave a laugh when he saw him pick up his second broccoli.

"You're gonna have to go faster than that if you want to have dinner  _today_ , Cas," Dean told him almost adoringly as he took one of Castiel's broccoli stalks, helping him out with the load.

Castiel was blushing fiercely as he averted his gaze from his friend's profile to the task at hand. "Apologies," he murmured as he worked to cut faster, finishing up his second broccoli and reaching for the last one.

"It's all good," Dean assured as he scooted to the side so Bobby could grab a baking tray from the cabinet in front of him. "We're just warming up, you'll get the hang of it," Dean told his friend.

Nodding, Castiel scooped up his cut broccoli and dumped it into the bowl. "What next?" he asked, eagerly.

"Well, here," Dean began as he placed a block of cheddar cheese and a grater in front of Castiel. "Shred the cheese and I'll crush the cheez-its," he instructed.

Castiel nodded, and the boys got to work. After a couple of worried warnings from Dean when Castiel's fingers got close to the cheese grater, Castiel had a cup of the cheese ready for the mix. Pretty soon the casserole was done and placed in the fridge to bake later. Dean gave Cas a high five, which the blue-eyed boy returned with a smile.

"Cas the  _cass_ -erole-maker," Dean joked. "You should open up a restaurant," he suggested with a bright smile.

Castiel quirked an eyebrow. "A restaurant that only serves casseroles?" he joked, trying not to smile at Dean's name play.

Dean shrugged. "I'd go there," he commented with a grin, green eyes crinkled.

Castiel couldn't help but laugh. "Great. You'd be my only customer," he told him as they set to preparing deviled eggs. Bobby and Sam were just finishing up their turkey and were now heating up the oven. "You'd probably also help me make the casseroles, seeing as I can barely make one a day," Castiel added with a smile.

Dean returned the smile as they placed some eggs into a pot of boiling water. "Practice makes perfect, Cas," Dean lectured.

After putting the turkey in the oven, Sam and Bobby told the two teens it'd take about three and a half hours and that Cas and Dean should put the casserole in when the turkey has forty minutes left. They agreed, and Sam and Bobby took over the deviled eggs station so that Dean and Castiel could start on making Dean's precious pies.

"Now, pay close attention, Cas," Dean joked, putting his hands together. "The art of pie is a very delicate process for a proper Winchester Thanksgiving," Dean explained, making Castiel crack a smirk.

"I'm listening," he reassured Dean, watching carefully to satisfy the teen.

Giving a smile, Dean assembled the ingredients. "Alright, first we need to make the pie crusts. There's gonna be three pies, so we need to make three crusts," Dean explained as he set up three small bowls. They got to work on mixing flour, salt, and sugar together in each bowl, Dean instructing Castiel carefully through the process. Then, Dean cut up a precise amount of butter into each bowl, and the boys mixed the ingredients together with their hands, creating a thick doughy concoction.

At one point after the messy procedure of flour and other baking ingredients, when they had finished washing their hands Dean stopped Castiel, putting a hand on his arm. "Uh, Cas, you've got flour right-" he gestured to the area, a smile on his face as Castiel's eyes widened.

Castiel wiped at the area with his sleeve, but Dean snorted when he ended up wiping completely in the wrong place, not even close to where Dean had tried to gesture. A dash of flour was still sitting happily on Castiel's forehead, reaching down to his temple. "Wait," Dean began as he stilled Castiel's arm from moving up again. "I'll get it," he told him, wiping the flour away with two light sweeps of his fingers. Castiel froze, his heart beating out of control at Dean's touch, and the blond boy seemed to realize what he was doing as he paused, his hand still on Castiel's forehead. Dropping his hand from Castiel, Dean cleared his throat, a blush reaching from his neck to brush at his cheeks.

"Uhm, I got it," Dean told him as he gave a small smile and turned back to his pie crusts. Castiel swallowed as he turned back to putting more flour on his dough, trying to stop his face from warming up too much.

Castiel licked his lips. "Thanks."

Castiel wondered to himself as they finished working on the dough. How come Dean made him so nervous, half the time? Why did his touch make him feel so strange, and all his other friends did not? 

What did it mean?

Could he like Dean? As more than a friend? Castiel glanced at the blond, studying his profile, and feeling a familiar kick in his chest. Butterflies fluttered warmly in the pit of his stomach, and he swallowed thickly before averting his gaze. Nobody ever made Castiel feel the way Dean did. Could be infatuation? Perhaps he simply liked Dean so much because he was his first friend. Castiel never had a crush, before. He never understood many feelings besides the anxiety he had grown used to.

He had no way to know how he felt, for sure.

Shaking the thought away, Castiel went back to work, distracting himself with the pies.

After mixing the ingredients together a bit more, Dean added a couple of spoons of water to each bowl, and they rolled the dough into balls, flattening them ever so slightly before they put them into the fridge to chill.

Castiel worked on setting up the cherry and blueberry pie innards (which was quite simple, since it was already mostly prepared in the cans they came in). Then he helped Dean prepare the pumpkin pie batter, which proved to be more challenging than the other pies. Dean seemed to know what he was doing, though, and he gave Castiel small orders as they set up the sweet, orange paste- pouring it into a bowl. After adding different ingredients to the pumpkin, it became a little bit creamier than the original squashed ingredient, and it smelled delicious. Dean put some in a spoon and handed it to Castiel.

"Here, try it and tell me what you think," he insisted, a smile on his face.

Castiel obliged, hungry from his lack of food throughout the day. Dean had told Cas of their old Thanksgiving tradition, how they wouldn't eat until the dinner was prepared so they could ingest as much of it as they could. It was two o'clock, now, and Castiel was eager to take in any form of food. He accepted the spoon and gave the batter a taste.

Sweetness tingled Castiel's teeth and touched his skin as it traveled through his body, tickling him with a shiver of warmth. The blue-eyed boy's eyebrows rose as his eyes widened, and he let out an involuntary satisfied noise as he withdrew the spoon from his mouth, licking his lips. A hint of cinnamon fluttered through his tongue as the sweet thickness of pumpkin lingered there. "This is amazing," Castiel exclaimed, looking up at a triumphant-looking Dean.

"It's my mom's recipe," Dean explained as he took Castiel's spoon and placed it in the sink. "She used to make these every year. I'd help her out, a lot," he told his friend as he stirred up the batter a little more, busying himself so he didn't have to look at Castiel. "I've basically memorized the recipe," he told Cas as he gave a small smile at the bowl.

Castiel gazed at Dean until the blond boy felt his eyes and looked up. They gazed at each other for a moment, then Castiel smiled, warmly. "You did great, Dean. I'm sure Sam will love it," Castiel reassured, sensing Dean's thoughts as the blond teen gaped at Castiel with shock. He opened his mouth, as if to ask how Castiel knew. How he'd known how much Dean had been worrying about making this night perfect for his brother. But, instead, he closed his mouth and looked at Sam. The young teen was busy filling hard boiled egg halves with fillings, paying complete and total attention to his task. Dean looked back at Castiel and just gazed at him for a moment before he gave a nervous, quick smile. Castiel only kept his gaze, reassuring his friend as intense blue eyes gazed into soft green ones.

"Yeah. Thanks, man," he murmured as he continued to work on the batter, and suddenly smiled to himself.

Next, Cas and Dean worked on making some mixed vegetables with spices while Bobby and Sam worked on making biscuits. When they were done, they put the vegetables in the fridge and agreed to make the mashed potatoes when the turkey was done.

The kitchen was filled with wonderful smells (mostly of turkey) and the fridge was stocked up with food that waited to be cooked. While Bobby and Sam worked on watching over the turkey, Cas and Dean prepared the table with dishes, silverware, and napkins. After that was done, Dean patted Castiel's arm to get his attention.

"Let's get some wood for the fireplace," Dean suggested, eyes wide with excitement as he grabbed his jacket from the chair he had placed it on.

Castiel smiled, encouraged by Dean's enthusiasm. "Sure," he agreed, heading out the door with Dean. The two friends walked out to the forest area behind Dean's house, and they searched for some dry fallen logs, Dean carrying a small ax with him that he picked up from the garage. Castiel gathered a few bigger logs for Dean to chop up, and they worked on that for what seemed like a good hour, talking about whatever came to their minds as they worked. They mostly planned for what they'd be doing tomorrow and what kind of food they should buy for the movie marathon they were having with the group. Castiel said they'd have to buy popcorn while Dean insisted on licorice. After a debate, they just decided they'd get both.

It was nice and relaxed, being around Dean. Castiel loved it. He loved the Winchesters and their uncle and their cozy home. He realized how lucky he was to be with them, this Thanksgiving, almost shuddering when he realized what the previous option would have been.

Yes... he was lucky, indeed.

* * *

The cold nipped at Dean's fingers as they curled around the ax, almost freezing in that position. The teens had gathered a sufficient amount of firewood, and even though they could head inside Dean found that he didn't want to. He enjoyed the privacy that the woods provided for them, and even though that meant not being able to feel his fingers, Dean was happy. He looked over at Castiel. The dark-haired teen seemed troubled, eyes inspecting a branch held in his long, pale fingers.

"So what're Thanksgivings like at your place?" Dean asked, risking going over the borderline of their usual conversations. He had to admit, he was curious about Castiel's life. He felt like he knew nothing about the kid, even if they had grown as close as they were, now. But Castiel just wasn't opening up like Dean had planned. He did tell Dean about his siblings and his mother, but that had been a vulnerable moment, and it was mostly Dean who pushed him into telling him. Dean figured that in order to know more about his friend, he'd have to be the one that engaged him in conversation.

Castiel looked at the leafy ground of Dean's backyard as he fiddled with the branch he was carrying. "Uhm, we don't celebrate it, much," Castiel admitted with a shrug. "My father doesn't bother, since it's only the two of us living together," Castiel murmured, glancing at Dean quick before putting a hand on his abdomen to finger at his bruises. "Uhm, he'll put together a dinner when members of our church visit. But he's not very fond of me assisting him, so I normally just set the table then head to my room for the day," he explained.

Dean felt something tug at his heart, and he licked his lips as he swung his ax slightly, looking at it. He looked back at his friend. "Well, just 'cause it's only you two living there doesn't mean that you shouldn't have a Thanksgiving," Dean protested. Castiel's shoulders were hunched, now, and Dean felt like he crossed a line.

"It's alright, Dean. I'd rather it be the way it is, anyway. I'm not too fond of spending time with my father just as much as he's not fond of spending time with me," Castiel retorted before shutting his mouth quickly, glancing at Dean quick with nervous eyes before he scoped the ground for another branch, picking it up.

That struck up hundreds of questions within Dean, but he forced himself to keep his mouth closed. The last thing he wanted to do was push Castiel away. Obviously, the teen was not one for being asked things about his family (mainly his father). When the time comes, Cas would tell Dean some more about himself… right?

Maybe Dean would just have to do the same. He needed to let Castiel know a little about himself before he would be convinced to start telling Dean anything. Trust had to run both ways, Dean realized.

So they finished gathering up their firewood, bringing a bunch into the house and lighting up the fireplace, warming themselves by it as they sat on the couch. Dean noticed Castiel sat far from Dean, and he internally cursed himself for being too pushy about Cas's family, earlier. He'd have to tread the waters of their friendship delicately. A wrong word or phrase, and it could all be over.

After about an hour or so of watching some TV, Dean and Cas retreated back to the kitchen to put the casserole in the oven. They then got their pie crusts and covered the pie trays, glooping in the mushy innards and covering the top of the blueberry and cherry ones with strips of dough. When the pies were finished and Dean was satisfied, they stuck them into the oven and worked on making some mashed potatoes while Bobby and Sam heated up the vegetables.

Pretty soon the whole meal was done, and they were all sitting at the dining table by six o'clock, a beautifully roasted turkey in the center of the table with the side dishes accompanying it. Castiel's mouth was watering and his stomach gurgled as he tore his eyes away from the meat.

Just as Dean was about to make the first cut, Sam interrupted him.

"Shouldn't we say what we're thankful for?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed as his brother let out a sigh.

"C'mon, Sammy, do we really have to?" Dean whined, eyes pleading and shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

His little brother stared him down stubbornly until Dean gave in, sitting in his seat with a huff as he rolled his eyes to his brother and waved for him to speak. "You first, then," he told him warily.

With a smile, Sam looked at everyone at the table. "I'm really thankful that we got to settle down and have a real Thanksgiving this year," he told them all, his eyes filled with satisfaction. "Thanks to Bobby and Castiel for joining us and helping out, and thanks Dean for agreeing to do this all," he said, smiling as he laid his eyes on his brother, who couldn't help but smile stubbornly back. "Alright, Bobby, you next," Sam insisted.

Bobby let out a sigh as he sat up in his seat. "Ah, well, as you boys know, you're like sons to me," Bobby told the Winchester siblings. "I'm glad we got to spend this Thanksgiving together. It's been a long time," he said with a smile.

The Winchesters beamed at their uncle, and Castiel smiled warmly. Dean was next, and he clicked his tongue before clearing his throat and speaking. "Uh- I guess I'm glad Sammy talked me into this," Dean admitted with a smile at his brother. "It really turned out great. And thanks to Bobby and Cas for helping, too," he added quickly as he glanced at his friend, who smiled brightly at him.

When it was Castiel's turn, he licked his lips before he spoke, a nervous hitch in his throat. "I'm thankful that you all took me in and allowed me to join you for your Thanksgiving dinner," Castiel told them. "I- well, I haven't had a Thanksgiving this great in a while, and it's… really nice. So thank you," he spoke shyly. Everyone smiled knowingly at him, and they all let out encouraging words as Dean got up to cut the turkey.

Everything was delicious, and Castiel helped himself to serving after serving of the juicy turkey and savory gravy, dipping them in his mashed potatoes as he filled his stomach with the warm food. He ate his tangy-sweet cranberry sauce and tried some deviled eggs, complimenting Sam and Bobby on them, Sam beaming at him with pride in his cooking skills.

After some pestering from Dean, Castiel finally agreed to try their casserole. It had turned out great, and Dean smiled warmly at him, telling him "I told you it would be". Everyone spoke enthusiastically over their food, Sam telling the table about the friends he had made at school and the clubs he had signed up for. Dean told his brother about the movie-marathon they'd be having with the group, and suggested that Sam should invite some friends to join them. Sam grew excited about that, seeming happy to be able to hang out with Dean.

When they all finished their dinner, Dean brought out the pies. Castiel tried a slice of Dean's pumpkin pie, congratulating him on how delicious it was. He even allowed himself a second piece after Dean insisted. Sam had loved it, too, saying how it tasted just like their mom's. Castiel would never forget the look on Dean's face at that comment. He was the happiest Castiel had ever seen him.

Dean helped himself to a slice of each pie, and Castiel couldn't help but laugh at how much Dean enjoyed it, closing his eyes and letting out satisfactory noises with each bite until Sam told him to go and get a room. Dean ignored him as the table laughed, of course, and Bobby ended up throwing a biscuit at the teen after his eleventh incredibly loud and suggestive moan. That ended up in a battle of biscuits between Dean and his uncle, the small round mounds of bread flying everywhere as they hit walls and landed in dinner platters- but they mostly hit one another. After laughing uncontrollably for the majority of the battle, Sam and Castiel eventually had to cease the fight when a biscuit had hit Castiel on the head, decorating his hair with crumbs. They laughed about it afterwards, poking fun at the crumbs in Dean's hair and all over Bobby's plaid button-up.

It proved to be a disaster to clean up, afterwards. Bobby agreed to vacuum the floor while Sam wiped the table down, and Dean and Cas set to washing all the dishes and storing away the food. After everything was cleaned up, and everyone had showered, the group sat in the living room, sprawled about the couches, Sam sitting between Dean and Cas on the biggest couch while Bobby sat on an armrest close by, nursing a beer.

The TV was on, but it was hardly paid attention to. Sam dozed off immediately, and not so soon after, Castiel did the same. He fought against the sleep that clouded his mind, but eventually let the haze declare dominance as his eyelids drooped closed, a faint smile on his lips.

* * *

Dean had been in the kitchen, searching the fridge for a beer when Bobby showed up.

"So…" he began, leaning against a counter by his nephew. "Castiel, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow when Dean immediately snapped his head in the direction of his uncle, beer bottle in his hand but long forgotten.

"What?" Dean asked, feeling his heart race as he looked in the direction of the living room, as if the snoozing dark-haired teen could hear every word of their hushed conversation. "What about him?" he asked.

Bobby raised a hand. "Nothin'," he insisted. "You two just seem awfully close. How long've you been here?" Bobby asked. "A month?"

Dean swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as he tried to answer, calmly. "Yeah, what does it matter?" he retaliated.

Bobby shrugged. "Dean, I haven't seen you act as kind as you do to that boy to anyone, besides Sam," Bobby admitted, coming clean now. "And don't think I didn't notice you lookin' at him with those doe-eyes of yours every time he had his head turned during dinner," Bobby added when Dean was about to argue.

Dean could feel warmth creep into his neck and tickle at his cheeks. Oh god, Bobby knew. He knew and now he wasn't going to let this go. What if John found out? What would he do? Dean could feel himself about to vomit everything he had ingested during dinner, his stomach churning with nervousness.. "What're you trying to say?" he asked defensively, arms crossed.

His uncle was staring at him sternly, now. "All I'm sayin' is that it's alright," Bobby reassured the teen. When Dean opened his mouth to speak, Bobby raised a hand to hush him. "Listen- you've been through hell. I think y'need to allow yourself some goddamn happiness once in a while. Castiel's a nice kid, and if you like him then screw everything else. I don't want ya worryin' about anything but what you want," Bobby added, sincerely.

Dean was biting on the inside of his cheek now as he tried to calm his heartbeat and urge the warmth out of his face. "Alright, Bobby," he began sarcastically, straightening up as he lifted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Why don't I write a sonnet, get myself a guitar and play him a romantic song since you think I've gone all gay-"

"Oh,  _shut up_ ," Bobby told him with an eye roll as he turned to head out of the kitchen. "Tryin' to give you some advice, you moron," Bobby murmured as he left the kitchen, leaving behind a red-faced Dean.

Taking a deep breath, Dean put down his beer, feeling queasy. How the hell did Bobby know about Dean's feelings for Cas when Dean barely recognized them, himself? No, he couldn't let this happen. He couldn't let himself do this to Cas. Hell, Dean was falling for the guy. It was kind of hard not to- what with the way he looked at him with those goddamned blue eyes and all the things they had both been through in this short amount of time. Dean could just relate to him so easily. He never had casual conversations with anyone as much as he's had with Cas. Talking to him was just so smooth and straightforward. Dean never told anyone about his mother, but he felt as if he could trust Cas right away. And, somewhere deep inside him, Dean knew that Castiel trusted Dean, as well. He had told Dean about his family. It seemed as though it was less of Castiel not wanting to tell him and more of Castiel not being  _allowed_ to tell him.

But Dean wasn't gay. He had never been gay. He never thought guys were attractive, before. Cas was the first guy Dean ever looked at that way. Hell, he's probably the only guy Dean will ever look at that way. It's less of Cas's gender and more of… just  _him._  Just the kind of person he was, and the way the two seemed to connect so simply.

Dean couldn't help but defend his sexual preferences, though. A cocky, confident part of him felt the need to shield his "masculinity". He definitely wasn't ready to admit the way he felt. To be completely honest, he'd probably never be able to.

Sighing, Dean picked up his beer and headed to the living room, being sure to keep his eyes off of both Bobby and Cas as he took his seat next to his brother. He tried to focus on the colorful images playing on the TV screen, but found himself tuning in his hearing to Castiel's soft breathing, his eyes flicking to the snoozing teen every time Bobby wasn't looking. Castiel looked so peaceful when he slept. He didn't have that look as if he were hiding something- all his emotions were just sprawled out when he slept and right now he looked truly and properly  _happy._ Dean smiled to himself slightly as he gave Cas a once over, taking in his jeans and wooly cardigan that seemed too big on him. And those glasses- well, Dean now knew he had a nerdy kink. They looked so good on Cas- framing and drawing even more attention to his blue eyes. Lastly, Dean allowed himself to look at Cas's lips. He would quickly glance at them every now and then when they talked, but now he could really look at them. It was  _definitely_ not Dean's fault that he found Castiel's lips so alluring. They were full and soft-looking and begging to be kissed.

Forcing that thought out of his mind, Dean gazed at the floor in front of him.

Damn, Dean had it bad, he realized. He looked up to see Bobby gave him a knowing stare, and Dean blushed furiously as he averted his gaze to a garbage bag commercial featuring an overly happy blond lady. He could hear Bobby mumble something that sounded curiously like "idjit". Licking his lips, Dean tried to get thoughts of kissing Castiel out of his mind.

Shit, this was gonna be a long break.


	13. Licorice Wheels

When Castiel woke up, he was still in the living room. It was dark, mind the glow of the TV, and he was lying down on the couch he had been watching television on- a warm mass at his feet.

Groggy and glasses askew on his nose, Castiel sat up, noting that there was a plush pillow placed beneath his head and a blanket draped over him. Dean was sitting on the other side of the couch, arms crossed and head tilted forward, calm breathing audible over the soft hum of the television. The blanket was draped over his legs slightly, and he was reclined in the couch- as if he fell asleep while watching a show. Castiel noted that Dean was in his nightclothes- a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt that hung loosely on his strong frame.

Reaching his hands under his glasses to rub at his eyes, Castiel took in a deep breath through his nose to stifle a yawn. He rolled his shoulders before looking at a wall clock- squinting to see the numbers in the dark of the living room.

It was 4:30 A.M., the clock ticking softly in the calm of the night. Castiel remembered sitting next to Sammy on the couch as the whole family watched some TV after dinner. He remembered feeling full and drowsy. He must have fallen asleep. But why was he still on the couch? Why was Dean still here? He had gotten changed for sleep, so why was he still in the living room?

Castiel nudged at Dean's arm, pushing him lightly to stir him awake. When Dean let out a moan of protest before blinking his eyes open, Castiel spoke.

"Dean. Dean, wake up," he urged him. "I think we fell asleep in the living room," he noted.

Dean was sitting up, now, bending his neck this way and that until it popped and he grunted with discomfort. He laughed quietly, eyes heavy with sleep before he sighed. "Cas,  _you_ fell asleep in the living room," Dean corrected as he yawned and stretched his arms, looking over at his friend with unfocused green eyes.

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You wouldn't get off the couch after dinner. Y'kept saying how you're okay and you wanna stay here and to leave you alone," Dean told him with a laugh when Castiel's eyes widened.

"Oh- sorry, I didn't mean-" Castiel began, face flushed with embarrassment.

"It's fine, man," Dean reassured. "I just stayed here 'cuz I'd be a crappy host if I left you alone," Dean told him with an amused smile. "I could tell you were out of it," he added.

Castiel gave a small smile. "Yes, I was rather tired," he agreed, stifling another yawn. "But I'd rather not continue sleeping on the couch," Castiel added as he got up.

With another laugh, Dean got up, as well. "Yeah, I hear you," he agreed. "Let's go," he urged before turning off the TV with the click of a remote.

They headed to Dean's room where Castiel changed quickly and laid down on his mattress, covering himself from head to toe in blankets as he tried to regain the body heat he lost from the cold of the night. He heard Dean's bed squeak beneath his weight, and he listened to Dean's calm breathing, letting it lull him to drowsiness.

"Goodnight," he murmured before falling asleep.

"Night, Cas."

* * *

When Castiel woke up it was to a sweet smell. The dark-haired boy stretched a bit before turning to his side to fumble for his glasses, slipping them on. He sat up and yawned, his body urging him to go back to sleep and succumb to the fog in his mind. But the room was lit with a morning light and Castiel decided he had slept more than enough. Looking to his right, he saw that Dean's bed was empty.

It was his curiosity that eventually got him on his feet, padding towards the kitchen where he heard voices ring about. When he got there, he was greeted with the sight of a smiling Dean flipping pancakes with his little brother while their uncle gathered some plates. They were all laughing about something, and Castiel got the feeling he was intruding.

But when Dean spotted Cas and gave him a friendly, warm smile, that feeling vanished.

"Morning," Dean greeted. He was still in his night clothes- his black sweatpants had some flour on them.

Castiel smiled back. "Good morning," he returned, walking to where everyone was busy with breakfast. "Is there anything I can help with?" he asked.

Bobby lifted up some glasses. "You can help me set the table," he suggested. Castiel nodded eagerly and assisted him with preparing some silverware and pitchers of water and orange juice. Just as he and Bobby were finishing placing napkins on the table, Dean came over with a large stack of pancakes, Sam trailing behind him with a jug of syrup. Castiel marveled at the sight. There had to be at least thirty pancakes on the plate, and Castiel looked around the room, expecting extra guests to pop up from behind furniture. But it was very clear that it would only be the four of them.

The table had been adjusted since the night before so everyone could reach the plate of pancakes. Two chairs sat on each of the longer sides of the table, rather than one chair on each of the four sides. Dean and Bobby sat side by side, and Sam and Cas sat across from them.

"Is there a reason for the numerous amount of pancakes?" Castiel asked after everyone had dug in, a smile on his face when Dean looked up from his food.

Dean shrugged, smiling back. "Sam asked me to make them," he said simply.

Castiel nodded, cutting up a piece. "Well, they're very good," he complimented, taking another bite.

Sam smiled from beside him. "Dean literally cooks the best food," he explained to Castiel. "He'd cook for me all the time back when we were younger," Sam added, pouring some more juice into his cup.

"Really?" Castiel asked, moving his gaze from Sam to Dean.

Dean blushed slightly as he pushed around his pancake. "Just a little, yeah," he admitted.

Castiel smiled softly, finding the fact that Dean cooked for his brother to be endearing. "I wish I could cook," he retorted, taking a bite of the fluffy, syrup-soaked breakfast. It had a hint of something like banana, with the sweet taste of vanilla. "All I can make is pasta, if I'm lucky," Castiel added, earning a laugh from the table.

"I could teach you a few recipes," Dean offered with a smile.

Castiel raised an eyebrow, shocked. "You'd do that?" he asked. "Really?"

Castiel never learned to cook, but he'd always wanted to try. His mother used to cook up the best dinners for him, and she'd often let him help when she baked goods for the church fundraisers.

Dean shrugged, blushing again before looking down at his plate. "I dunno. If you want, yeah," he replied, embarrassed.

Castiel smiled brightly. "That'd be great," he responded.

They all continued to eat and talk about their plans for the day. Sam said he'd invited over three of his friends: Andy, Ava, and Jessica. They were going to watch the movie marathon with Dean and his friends, and Dean had responded enthusiastically, glad to get the opportunity meet his little brother's friends. At one point during breakfast, Bobby brought up a job available at an autoshop in Lawrence.

"It's not too far from here, and I'm friends with the owner, Rufus," he explained to Dean. "Gave him a good word for you. I thought you might be interested. They're lookin' for an assistant and, well, you  _are_ the one that brought that Impala of yours up from the pile of rust it used to be," Bobby explained. "No offense," he added, knowing that insulting Dean's car was sensitive territory.

Dean smiled, chuckling. "None taken. Yeah, that actually sounds awesome. I've been meaning to get a job," Dean replied. "Here," he said as he got up and grabbed a notebook and pen from the kitchen. "Could you write down the info here? I'll be sure to check it out."

So Bobby wrote down the address and phone number of the repair shop on it, then excused himself, saying he had to head to work. Everyone bid their goodbyes, and Bobby promised them he'd be back at nine. So, after finishing up their breakfast, the boys all headed off to get ready for the day.

Castiel dressed himself in a navy blue sweater and a pair of jeans. Once he was dressed he took note of Dean's navy blue button-up he wore, smiling to himself when he realized that they were color-coordinated. Castiel put in his contacts, today, storing away his glasses. He noticed Dean watching him out of the corner of his eyes, looking almost humorously disappointed. But he shook off the observation.

Once everyone was dressed they decided to watch some TV and relax for a couple hours, since it was still quite early. When the time slipped to around one o'clock and Dean complained that he did not want to watch another episode of Ghostfacers (a really cheesy and completely laughable show about a group of people who go hunting for ghosts), they all decided it was time to go to the store.

After looking up directions, they agreed to go to a nearby Walmart to get food for the movie marathon, rather than the crappy grocery store Sam and Dean had been going to, previously. It turned out that Sam and Cas both agreed that popcorn was an essential movie snack, and Dean bought a couple boxes of movie theater popcorn with an eyeroll, mumbling "you guys have no taste" and later accusing Castiel of teaming up against him. Dean was joking, of course, and when they got to the candy isle Castiel made it up to him by helping him find licorice wheels- Dean's favorite type of licorice.

By the end of their movie-food scavenging, the group had a cart full of popcorn, licorice, soda, chips, and other unhealthy assortments of various candies and snacks. When they were all satisfied with their choices, they made their way back into the Impala.

"We should go somewhere for lunch," Sam suggested. It was three o'clock, and the pancake breakfast at eight seemed like ages ago.

"That's a good idea," Castiel seconded.

"Where do you guys wanna go?" Dean asked, looking in the rearview mirror at his brother.

"I dunno. Just somewhere that doesn't serve pizza because if I have another slice of cheese on bread I will probably throw up," Sam responded.

Dean laughed out loud, seeming thoroughly amused.

Castiel smiled, confused. "Is there a reason for your intense hatred towards pizza?" he asked Sammy, who gave an exasperated sigh.

"Well, for almost a month while we were still unpacking kitchen stuff we didn't go shopping for things we could cook. We practically had pizza every night, and if not that then we'd have hot pockets," Sam explained with grimace on his face, his nose scrunched in disgust.

Dean was still laughing, gripping onto the steering wheel as he shook his head. "So Papa Johns it is, right?" Dean joked when they passed by the pizza franchise.

"I will actually not hesitate to murder you, Dean," Sam retorted.

Smiling, Dean lowered the blaring tunes of Black Sabbath (Castiel only knew the name because he had asked), and glanced at Castiel. He had a glint of recognition in those green eyes before he looked back at the rearview mirror.

"How about some Burger King?" he offered. Sam immediately smiled.

"I'm up for that," he agreed.

Castiel felt his heart stutter as he recalled sitting on Dean's couch, hungry and weak and in so much pain. He remembered Dean basically feeding him fries upon fries, being patient when it took Castiel a full hour to ingest all the food. He remembered the look on Dean's face when Castiel unexpectedly cried. He remembered the smile Dean gave him when he explained how happy the burger held in his hands made him. It almost seemed like ages ago. Dean looked over at his friend, noting his suddenly happy features. "Burgers okay with you, Cas?" he asked, although he knew what the answer would be.

Castiel smiled softly. "Yes, burgers are alright with me."

* * *

Dean had Sam and Cas find a booth while he went to request their order. When Castiel wasn't sure what he wanted, Dean said he'd take care of it for him. So now Castiel and Sam were sitting across from one another at a booth, chatting about things that came to their mind- mostly about how Sam was faring in his Physics class. He worried relentlessly about a test that was soon to come, and Castiel reassured him that he was going to make sure the younger Winchester passed. They set up a study date for Tuesday and Wednesday, the two days before his test on Thursday.

Further into their conversation, Sam suddenly grew shy in his movements, looking at Dean then back at Castiel. Then he spoke.

"Uhm, Cas?" Sam began hesitantly, drawing Castiel's attention away from a spider crawling outside of the window they were seated next to.

"Yes?" he answered, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted in confusion towards Sam's sudden change in tone. Sam suddenly grew hesitant, fiddling with a paper menu that sat propped up against condiments on the table.

"Well, uhm, one of the friends I invited over tonight… Jess," he began, glancing up at Castiel before he looked back down. "I, uhm, well I think I might like her… like, a lot," he hinted, looking at Castiel to make sure he understood. "And, well… I'm worried that… with Dean, he might see and get all... y'know."

Castiel gave him a friendly smile, understanding. "I'll make sure to distract him if he notices," he assured the preteen, whose eyes widened with surprise.

"Really?" he asked, perking up suddenly.

Castiel nodded reassuringly, and Sam sighed.

"Wow, thanks. I- well, I didn't want to tell Dean. Not yet, at least, because I feel like he'll try and embarrass me. And I really like her but I don't wanna make her uncomfortable, y'know? And Dean is... well, you know how he is," Sam began with a smile. "He's always asking if there's a girl I like and he's always trying to get me to go at it but… I don't know, I wanna take things slow... with her," Sam explained.

Castiel quirked a smile. That did sound like Dean. He was very enthusiastic when it came to his little brother's life, and Castiel was more than aware that Dean was a complete womanizer. From what he remembered of Dean's first few weeks at school, all the girl's he had accompanied himself with had basically clung to him with admiration and complete and utter adoration.

A little tug started in his chest when he realized… Dean was a  _womanizer._ He was friendly towards Castiel, yes, but that was just how he acted to all his friends. When it came to women, he could practically get any girl he wanted.

Oh, no. Right when Castiel finally began acknowledging the fact that his feelings towards Dean might be romantic, he failed to wonder if Dean felt the same way. Or if it were even _possible_ for him to feel the same way. His heart dropped down to his stomach and he grew cold. Suddenly, Castiel felt very, very small- and very, very dumb.

"Cas?" Sam's voice spoke, jolting Castiel out of his thoughts.

"Yes?" he asked, looking at Dean's brother with an apologetic smile.

Sam's eyebrow was raised in a way that reminded Castiel of Dean, and he observed his friend before he spoke. "Are you okay?"

Castiel gave a nod. "Yes, sorry, I was thinking about something. But don't worry about tonight, alright? I'm sure things will be fine," Castiel assured.

Sam smiled brightly, now. "Thanks, Cas. You're awesome," he complimented.

That was the exact moment that Dean arrived with two trays of food. "Why is Cas awesome?" he intervened, hearing Sam's previous statement as his lips twitched into a smile, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

Dean took a seat next to Cas on the booth, and Castiel felt himself grow warm at the touch of Dean's legs against his, his heart beating in his chest as he accepted the food Dean handed him with a smile.

"Because he just  _is_ , duh," Sam retorted, giving Castiel a knowing look and smile before taking his burger and fries from Dean.

Dean gave a thoughtful look before he nodded, taking a bite of his burger. "Sure, I guess you're right," he agreed around a mouthful of food.

Castiel unwrapped his hamburger, looking at the contents within it. There were two meat patties and a bunch of different vegetables and condiments within it.

"I got you a double burger," Dean told him when he noticed Castiel hadn't eaten, yet. "I figured you could have the extra stuff on it, now that you can stomach it," he added in a quieter tone.

Castiel smiled at his friend, who returned the gesture. "Thank you, Dean," he replied before taking a bite out of the burger, relishing in the sweet ketchup and bitter mustard that laced his tongue, enjoying the crunch of lettuce and juice of tomatoes. The fried food was all excellent, and Castiel ate slowly, savoring every bite.

Dean's leg did not move from its spot next to Castiel's, and that fact alone warmed Castiel and made him unable to stop smiling around his food. It was a simple gesture, and Castiel was sure Dean didn't even take note of it, but the feeling of soft physical touch was still a foreign thing to Castiel.

And he could get used to it.

Castiel listened to Dean and Sam chat about random things ranging from places they've lived at to a school play that Sammy was in when he was ten-  _Our Town_ , as Dean had recalled. Sam had blushed furiously and begged Dean not to mention it but the older sibling just laughed and prodded jokes towards his brother.

"Nah, Sam, you were good. It was cute," he complimented, almost adoringly, and Castiel laughed while Sam glared at his brother, eventually shaking his head and smiling softly.

Dean moved animatedly when he spoke, Castiel noted, and with all the gestures he was making Castiel could smell his enticing cologne _-_ it smelled warm and almost electric, mixed with the leather of Dean's jacket and a slight hint of the Impala on him. The pure sweetness of Dean's smell heated Castiel's skin, prickling through his body and making his cheeks flush when he realized how attracted he felt towards the blond teen at that moment- how much he wanted to lean his entire being into Dean and feel as much of him as he could.

Their arms would bump every now and then and Castiel couldn't help but linger towards the touch, addicted to the feeling it gave him. Castiel knew it was not only due to his attraction towards Dean, but also due to the fact that he had been deprived of contact for so long. Even when Sam would tap Castiel's arm to get his attention, Castiel found that he craved the touch, and prolong contact with the other boy, as well. And, well, Dean's leg stayed by Castiel's all throughout lunch, silently fulfilling Castiel's unvoiced needs. He couldn't help but feel as if Dean knew what he was doing- that he knew what touch did to Castiel. He had to know- there's was a ton of space on the booth seat they shared, yet Dean sat close by his friend, letting their shoulders touch and their arms bump and their hands brush. Castiel's skin was practically humming with happiness and warmth by the time they had all finished their meal and made their way back to Dean's car.

When they got back home, Dean, Castiel, and Sam all worked at setting up the living room for the movie marathon. Cas and Dean arranged the furniture so there was more space for sitting in front of the TV while Sam searched through boxes for their Indiana Jones movie collection. After that, they brought out all their snacks and Cas helped Dean set up the drinks in a cooler. By the time they got everything prepared, it was five o'clock. Dean texted everyone telling them they were ready, and that they could come over. He also added that they were welcome to spend the night.

Chuck was the first to show up, and he came over with a pack of root beers. After coming inside he sat down on the couch next to Cas, giving him a smile while Dean went off to the kitchen to grab some more ice for the cooler.

"Hey," he greeted, seeming in a particularly good mood.

Castiel smiled back. "Hello, Chuck. How was your Thanksgiving?" he asked as he accepted a root beer that the messy-haired boy offered.

Chuck shrugged, blue eyes passive. "Eh, it was alright. I mean, I had like twenty relatives over. It was a mess. I mostly locked myself in my room when I wasn't forced to play with ten little kids," Chuck explained, earning a laugh from Castiel. "But, yeah. I actually got a lot of writing done, so I feel super productive," Chuck added before taking a sip of root beer.

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you writing an essay?" he asked.

Chuck's eyes widened as he sat up a little straighter. "Oh! Dude, I guess I never told you. Damn, sorry, I forgot. Uh, well I actually write a lot of stories," Chuck corrected, giving Castiel a smile when his eyebrows rose.

"I had no idea you wrote," Castiel commented, turning in his seat to face Chuck better while they talked.

Chuck shrugged a shoulder in a self-conscious manner. "Eh, it's not much. There's one book I'm truly dedicated to writing. I wanna become an author, one day. I want a lot of people to read my writing. Maybe I could be famous or something, I dunno. If that were to happen I would go by a different name, though," Chuck added with a secretive look.

Castiel smiled. "And what name would that be?" he asked.

His friend gave a smug smile, reclining in his seat a bit. "Well, if I tell you you'd have to promise not to give away my identity," Chuck answered.

Crossing his finger over his heart, Castiel nodded. "I swear."

Giving a light laugh, Chuck responded. "Well, all I can say is you should look out for the name Carver Edlund," he told him, raising an eyebrow.

Castiel nodded knowingly, playing along. "I'll be sure to be on the lookout," he agreed, sipping his sweet soda. "Why that name?"

Chuck smiled before he spoke. "It's my uncle's first name, and my mother's maiden name. They're both really important to me, I guess. They encourage my writing."

Giving a hum of recognition, Castiel smiled. "So how long is your book you're working on?"

"The major one?" Chuck asked. When Castiel nodded, Chuck answered. "Well, I've actually separated the writing into different books, it got so long. I've come up with about three books so far," Chuck replied proudly, smiling at the impressed look on Castiel's face.

"Wow," he managed to utter.

Chuck laughed. "Wow, indeed. I've been working on them since the sixth grade. Let me tell you, I had to do  _a lot_ of editing on my crappy middle school writing," Chuck told him with an exasperated look. "And I'm still not finished editing."

Holding his soda can with both hands, Castiel settled it in his crossed legs. "What's it about?" he asked, intrigued.

Chuck suddenly grew shy. "Well, it's kinda weird. Fantasy, I guess? Kind of. Myths, and stuff like that. But, to sum it up, it's about two brothers who hunt demons and ghosts and urban legends, stuff like that. Throughout the books, though, a lot of stuff happens and the two brothers have to basically save the world a bunch of times," Chuck explained.

Castiel's eyes widened. "How'd you get the idea?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Chuck shrugged, smiling. "Well, it came to me in a dream, and i guess it just kinda took off from there," he explained. Castiel listened in vivid detail as Chuck told him how he was about to add angels into his book series in preparation for an apocalypse that the brothers and one angel were going to stop.

"I'm still trying to find a good name for the angel that's on the brother's side," Chuck mused, thinking to himself. "I've been going on these angel name websites, but none of them really stick out to me. They all seem really stereotypical."

Cas gave a smile. "Well, I will not imply anything, but I _happen_ to be named after an angel," Castiel hinted.

Chuck's eyebrows rose. "Y'know, I actually like that. Castiel: Angel of the Lord," Chuck tried out, suddenly smiling. "It has a nice ring to it," he added with a grin.

Castiel nodded, smiling wide. "I have to agree with you on that," he replied.

Chuck was excited, now. "Y'know, I think I'll use your name- if you don't mind. Jo and Ash have already been included in the story, and I'm gonna fit Charlie and Adam in there, somehow," Chuck explained. "I even incorporated myself into the story," he added with a laugh. "I like using names of people I know- it makes the story seem a lot cooler and more personal. I'm still trying to be find familiar names for the main characters," Chuck told Castiel. "I have yet to be friends with someone like them," Chuck spoke thoughtfully. "I don't really like their names, right now. The ones they have are just kinda... _prop_ names, I guess. Everything I come up with sounds kinda cheesy- like, they don't go smoothly, y'know?"

Castiel gave his friend a smile, excited about the story and being able to be in it. "Well, I'd be honored to be in your story," he told his friend. "And, you know, since you're having trouble finding names you like for the brothers, you _could_ try Dean," he suggested. "He has a younger brother, Sam," Castiel explained, looking around the living room for the younger Winchester. "He's not here, at the moment… but you could talk to them about it later if you'd like," Castiel told him. "I'm sure Dean wouldn't mind, and Sam would definitely be interested."

Chuck raised his eyebrows. "Their last name is Winchester, right? Like the rifle?" he asked. When Castiel nodded, Chuck was giddy. "That's actually so freaking bad ass! I like it! I definitely have to ask," he exclaimed.

Castiel smiled. "Do you think I'd be able to read the books?" he asked hopefully.

Chuck smiled. "Of course, dude," he agreed. "I could show you them one weekend. Just, well- here, give me your number," he said as he pulled out his phone, handing it to Castiel. They exchanged numbers, and made plans to hang out another week at Chuck's house so Castiel could read some of his books.

Pretty soon, Charlie and Jo showed up, followed by Adam and Ash, later on. Sam's friends, Jessica, Ava, and Andy showed up, and everyone settled down for the movie. Castiel sat between Charlie and Chuck, since Dean was well distracted by his conversations with Adam about which Indiana Jones movie was the best. _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ (Dean's favorite) flickered on the screen, but the blond teen completely ignored it as he debated playfully with his friend. Sam was seated next to Jessica rather closely, Castiel noted, as they talked to one another. Smiling when Sam caught Castiel's gaze, the other Winchester returned the smile sheepishly and gave Castiel a "thank you" look before continuing to talk to Jessica. Andy and Ava were eating some popcorn and arguing about the movie with Dean and Adam. Andy had taken Dean's side in agreeing that the Temple of Doom was the best movie, and Dean smiled, saying how he was gonna adopt him and have him as a little brother instead of Sam when Sam had taken Adam's side.

Charlie and Castiel talked about their Thanksgiving, Charlie explaining in great detail the devastation she had to go through when wearing an awful dress her grandmother gave her for the dinner.

"Ugh, it was _awful_ , Cas," Charlie explained, hands on her face as she shook her head, red hair swishing with the movement. "I literally looked like one of those creepy dolls from a horror movie," Charlie recalled with a shudder.

Castiel laughed, reclining in his seat as Charlie took a handful of popcorn from his bowl. "I bet you looked fine," Castiel reassured with a smile as he looked at his friend.

Charlie quirked an eyebrow in a challenging fashion. "I've got pictures that will prove you wrong," the redhead rebutted as she pulled out her Android, pressing on her photo gallery button to show Castiel a picture she had taken of her reflection in a big mirror. Castiel snorted when he saw the dress, unable to help himself. It was pink and went down to Charlie's ankles. The skirt poofed out ever so slightly and the waist had a ribbon that tied into a bow. Frilly white cuffs were on the collar and the sleeves of the dress, resembling table doilies.

Castiel bit his lip to hold back his laughter. "It's… cute, Charlie," he lied, earning an elbow in his ribs, which sent him laughing hysterically, despite the ache he received in his abdomen from doing so. "Alright, alright, I admit, the dress is quite bad," Castiel gave in with a smile.

Charlie scrunched up her nose, but she was smiling. "Tell anyone about this and you'll wake up in it, Novak," she threatened with a grin.

"I believe you," Castiel responded, holding his hands up in surrender. "Not a word, I promise," he concluded before digging into his bowl of popcorn.

Charlie smiled brightly, running a hand through Castiel's hair as she messed it up, playfully. "Good, Castiel. You learn quickly," she complimented with another smile when Castiel rolled his eyes. "Geez, Cas, you're in serious need of a trim," Charlie commented, removing her hair from Castiel's now tangled mane. "When was the last time you cut it?" she asked as she played with a loose stand, fixing up Castiel's hair slightly. "Unless you're going for Ash's look, which is totally fine."

Castiel shrugged, grabbing a handful of popcorn and munching on it. Charlie and Cas were sitting close on the couch, the redhead practically reclining into Castiel's side. It was comfortable, and yet again his body ached for the contact and the gentle hand that fiddled with his hair. It was not the same as it was with Dean at the restaurant, though. This time it was more of a happy comfort rather than an intense, warm sort. It was more of what he felt when Sam would touch him. "I'm not sure," Castiel admitted. "I cut my own hair, and I'm not very good at it. So I tend to put it off," he explained.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Y'know, I've got a friend who could cut it for you," Charlie suggested. "She's really good with hair- she actually wants to be a stylist. You can trust her," Charlie reassured before Castiel could protest. "Her name is Gilda," Charlie told Cas with a smile, and from the way Charlie spoke about her Castiel knew she held an intense sort of fondness towards the girl.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "How much does she charge?" he asked.

Charlie snorted. "C'mon, Cas, you're my friend. She'd do it for free," she explained.

"You sure?"

"Positive. She's cut Adam's hair, before," Charlie replied.

Castiel smiled, nodding. "Alright, yes. That sounds nice," he told her. "I'd like that, if it's not too much trouble."

Charlie smiled. "No trouble at all. I'll contact her later," she informed her friend.

At that moment, Dean sat on their couch, right between Castiel and Chuck.

"Hey guys," Dean greeted with a smile, handing Castiel, Charlie, and Chuck a soda.

Everyone greeted Dean with a smile, and Castiel accepted the soda with a thank you. Dean and Chuck chatted about Chuck's book and Dean agreed enthusiastically towards the idea of him and Sam being the main characters. He seemed pretty flattered.

"Dude, that sounds fucking awesome!" Dean exclaimed. "I don't read pleasure books much, but you definitely gotta let me look at that, sometime," Dean told his friend, who gave a bright smile.

Later on, about thirty minutes into the movie, Dean opened a plastic bag with a loud crinkle and Castiel looked over to see Dean's beloved licorice wheels.

Castiel smiled, giving a light laugh. "Always with the licorice, Dean," Castiel commented, to which Dean smirked.

"You'd understand if you'd let me give you one to try," Dean told him, untwirling one of the looped licorice rolls as he ate it.

Castiel scrunched up his nose. "I don't think I'd like any," he replied. "I did not enjoy the Twizzlers from the movie theater all that much," he added.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "To call these Twizzlers is an insult," Dean mocked, a hand over his heart.

Castiel rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "They're basically the same type of candy, Dean," Castiel retorted.

Dean shook his head. "And that's where you're wrong, my friend. This is the good stuff," he insisted, handing Castiel a red wheel. There was an assortment of red and black candies. The black ones smelled odd, Castiel noted. "Here, try it," he offered.

At first, Castiel was going to say no. But the smell of Dean's cologne and the way his body was pressed against Castiel's at that moment made the dark-haired teen want to do anything to keep that contact. With a sigh, he took the licorice from the teen's hand.

"You gotta eat it like this, by the way," Dean said as he let the string of licorice hang from his mouth, his hand holding the wheel and unwinding it with his lips as he ate more.

Castiel smiled, snorting. "I did not know there was a rule applied towards the eating of licorice," he joked.

Dean nudged him gently. "It's like stringed cheese. There's a certain way to eat it. Any other way would be blasphemous," he retorted, smiling.

Castiel gazed at the waxy candy in his hand before unravelling it slightly and taking a bite out of the string. It actually tasted good, he had to admit. Definitely a lot better than the twizzlers he and Dean had eaten the past weekend.

"So?" Dean prodded, a smile on his face.

Castiel shrugged. "They're _okay_ ," he lied.

Dean laughed. "Nah, you love them," he concluded.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Dean."

Before Dean could respond, Jo sat on Dean and Castiel's lap, holding her iPhone in front of the three of them, the reverse camera turned towards them.

"I'm going to take a picture, now, and you two have to pretend you're happy- _smile_ ," she told the boys. Dean smiled automatically, and Castiel laughed at the ridiculousness in Jo's statement and the enthusiasm in Dean's smile.

The picture actually turned out quite nice.

"Aren't you two a pair of lookers," Jo commented with a smile as she showed them the picture, then patted Dean and Castiel's heads affectionately.

"Thanks, I do part-time modeling," Dean replied with a big grin.

Jo busted out laughing at that. "No, actually- if I didn't know you- I might've believed that," Jo said with a smile before getting a few pictures with Chuck- which mostly consisted of awkward faces, then one with Charlie. When she was finished, the blond jumped off the couch to sit next to Adam and Ash, taking some more pictures with them. She promised to send everybody the pictures when she had finished.

After some more debate over Dean's licorice, the two friends continued to watch the movie in silence. Then, when Castiel had finished with his licorice wheel he reached into Dean's bag to grab another one, ignoring the way Dean smirked smugly.

He also ignored the way Dean subtly leaned closer, resting his arm and leg against Castiel's as he put the licorice bag between them. At one point, their hands brushed when they both reached towards it, and they automatically pulled away, both murmuring apologies before Dean offered the bag to Castiel, who took it- a blush spreading across his face.

Dean's hand was smooth and their touch had been like a shock of electricity, enhancing Castiel's senses and making his heart accelerate. It was nothing like when their legs and arms touched. There was no warmth and calm, just pure excitement and energy.

But the awkward feeling soon passed and they continued to watch the movie, Dean nudging Cas to point out his favorite parts, quoting them enthusiastically and with much theatrical mocking as Castiel laughed.

Bobby got home, eventually, and he checked in with everyone before making his way to his room, retiring for the night. By the time everyone had finished with their fourth Indiana Jones movie, the teens were all growing sleepy. Adam and Jo had already fallen asleep on one another, taking up a love seat as they curled up messily, limbs tangled. Ash had fallen asleep on a chair, sprawled out messily on it.

Jess and Ava had left home together around one, thanking Sam and Dean for inviting them over. Everyone (that was awake) bid the two girls goodbye before they left. Charlie later fell asleep, laying her head on Castiel's lap as she stretched her legs out on the armrest, snoozing peacefully. Dean had laughed at that, and Castiel smiled. He had grown fond of Charlie. She reminded him of his older sister.

Chuck had taken refuge on a chair that Sammy had previously been sitting on (the younger Winchester and Andy were asleep in Sam's room), and he was curled up there, sleeping away.

Once again, Castiel and Dean were the only ones up, probably due to their large intake of sugar.

Castiel carded his fingers through Charlie's hair, absentmindedly, as he began to feel sleepiness envelop his mind. A glance at the wall clock revealed it to be three in the morning, and Castiel almost groaned at the sight. His sleeping schedule was going to be awful

Before he could fall asleep, though, Dean jostled his shoulder.

"Hey. Cas, you awake?" he asked. When Castiel turned to face him, blinking sleepily, Dean continued. "We should get everyone to my room. Probably more comfy than the couches," Dean suggested.

Castiel nodded, yawning, and he carefully shook Charlie awake, removing her from his numb legs and gently helping her up as she murmured sleepily, stumbling on her feet.

After waking up the rest of the group, everyone made their way to Dean's room. Jo and Charlie changed into their pajamas in the hallway bathroom and everyone else changed in Dean's room. After slipping on some comfortable sweatpants and his thin night sweater, Castiel went to the bathroom when Jo and Charlie were finished, and removed his contacts, having some trouble sliding them off of his dry eyes. After storing his contacts in their container and placing them on the sink counter, Castiel sleepily brushed his teeth before making his way back towards Dean's room.

Everyone agreed that the girls would take Dean's bed and the guys would take the mattress on the floor (it definitely wasn't big enough, so Dean had to pull out some extra blankets and pillows). So Castiel squeezed in between Chuck and Dean, trying to get comfortable as the guys all complained at each other to "scooch over". He ended up sleeping on his side facing Dean. Dean was sleeping on his side, as well, his back to Castiel, and the dark-haired boy observed the back of his friend's blond head before he fell fast asleep, dreaming of licorice wheels, green eyes, and a warm arm against his own.


	14. Falling

When Dean woke up, he was impossibly hard. And, honestly, he couldn't blame himself. Castiel's legs had been entwined with his own, one thigh tucked tight between Dean's legs in a horribly awkward and very dangerous position. And he was just so  _warm_  against Dean's side, curling into his arm and snoozing away so goddamn peacefully while Dean could barely collect his own thoughts, blushing fervently and trying to calm his racing heart.

It also didn't help his current, very embarrassing situation when he looked over at Cas and noticed the teen's sweater had hiked up slightly, exposing a sliver of his hipbones and stomach-

Oh, God.

Swallowing thickly, Dean maneuvered himself carefully out of Castiel's legs and checked to make sure everyone was asleep. He looked at his alarm clock, and noticed that it was only nine in the morning.

Sighing, Dean got out of the warmth of the bed (and of Castiel's fucking cuddling) and grabbed some clothes before heading to the bathroom to take a long hot shower and work on his... predicament.

For fuck's sake, this was going too far. Since when did Dean get turned on by guys? I mean, yeah, he found Castiel to be attractive, but just fucking sleeping next to him had given Dean the worst case of morning wood he had ever woken up to. This was crazy- it was  _insane_. Dean wasn't gay, damnit!

So he thought of his night with Lisa instead as he worked himself, coming with an unsatisfied grunt before he washed thoroughly, taking his time in the shower to sort out his thoughts.

It was just hormones. It was just Dean's body doing the thinking, not his mind. There was no way he was gay for Castiel. That was just fucking ridiculous.

Sighing as he relaxed his body under the constant pressure of warm water, Dean focused on the trickling of the liquid as it ran between his shoulder blades, soothing his back and easing up his tense muscles. Dean ran fingers through his hair as he furiously rubbed soap into it, as if trying to clean his mind of all dirty thoughts of Castiel.

Cas was great- he really was. He was the best and closest friend Dean has ever had. He seemed to be one of the few people that could understand what Dean went through, living without a mother and taking care of himself and his brother on his own. Sometimes they would look at each other and just  _know_ what the other was thinking about. Words did not even need to be exchanged, just the pigments of blue and green searching through frantic minds.

Hell, even Sam liked Cas. Dean smiled when he remembered watching Cas and Sam talk while he got their food at Burger King, yesterday. He remembered Castiel's calming stature and encouraging grins and he could see Sam's hands moving as he talked, his body sitting up straight with enthusiasm. Cas was so _good_ with Sam, and if Dean wasn't on his hands and knees (all jokes aside) for the guy before, he  _definitely_ was after seeing the way Cas handled Dean's little brother so nicely.

Dean sighed again as he realized how fast he was falling for this guy.

Castiel was an incredible, powerful magnet. And Dean... Dean was like some helpless, pitiful piece of iron- always attracted to the blue-eyed teen's pure goodness and honesty and alluring aura. People were bound to figure out Dean's feelings, sooner or later. For Christ's sake, when Cas is in the same room Dean could barely keep away for five minutes. It would be no time before he's right next to him, fucking reaching out to touch him in some subtle way that he would subconsciously hope Cas wouldn't notice.

He wanted to do more, though.

Dean wanted to hold Castiel's hand- he wanted to run fingers down Castiel's arms, the soft scrape of his nails dipping lightly into Castiel's smooth skin and exploring the muscles that laid beneath. He wanted to pull Castiel close so they were chest to chest, warmth emanating through their slightest movements. He wanted to feel Cas's heartbeat through the fabric of their shirts and the skin of their bodies. He wanted to fucking kiss those soft, inviting lips and claim Castiel as his own.

He'd never felt like this about anyone. Dean never grew attached in any way to all his one-night stands. His longest fucking relationship was about a month, and it wasn't even official- it was all physical pleasure and making out in empty hallways.

But Dean didn't want just that from Cas. He wanted to  _be_ with him. He wanted to learn about him and comfort him and laugh with him and,  _damnit_ , Dean just wanted to be able to stay up all night with Cas talking about shit that doesn't matter until they fell asleep together, comforted by the other's presence and not feeling the need for physical stimulation.

These needs were so abundant in Dean's mind and body and goddamned soul that he could hardly contain it- gazing at Cas when he wasn't looking and trying to touch him in the smallest of ways as he slowly let his wants trickle out of the dam that kept them back, sliver by aching, unfulfilling sliver. And, sometimes, when they would talk and look at each other, Dean felt as though he could see the same thoughts going through Castiel's own mind- his eyes begging Dean to take the next step and make him his.

But Dean knew it was just his lovesick, hormone drunken mind convincing him of these things. Castiel didn't like Dean- not in _that_ way, at least. He was just overall kind and understanding and tuned in to everyone's energy and presence. Castiel looked at everyone with intense interest when they spoke to them, not just Dean- Dean wasn't  _special_.

He had seen the way Castiel sat on the couch with Chuck, legs crossed and torso leaning forward as he faced the teen, light blue eyes wide with interest and head bobbing with nods, lips quirking into smiles. Castiel hadn't even noticed Dean observing him- he had been so preoccupied with giving Chuck his full attention. That had been enough to send Dean to the kitchen where he drank a beer and tried to tell himself to stop overreacting.

It wasn't only Chuck that Castiel had been animated with, last night. When Charlie had taken her seat next to Castiel, Dean paid close attention to the tight press of their sides, the way Charlie was leaning into Castiel when she told him stories that he listened intently to, laughing and snorting adorably while he responded to the redhead, his gravelly voice so goddamn alluring Dean had to make himself stop listening. Dean had felt a pang of jealousy when Charlie ran her hand through Cas's hair, playing with it and commenting on it. He fucking wished he could do that without being considered odd. He wanted to declare Castiel as his own, he wanted Castiel's hair and arms and laughter and blue eyes all to belong to  _him_.

He didn't hold a grudge against Charlie or Chuck, though. They were Castiel's friends, too, and they were more than allowed to talk to him and elbow him and ruffle his hair playfully. But that understanding wasn't enough to stop the pure envy he felt radiating from his chest when Charlie had laid her head comfortably on Castiel's lap, his delicate fingers running through her hair in gentle, mindless caresses as he lulled her to sleep. Dean wanted that to be him,  _fuck_ , he needed it  _so bad_. He wanted to lie his head on Castiel's lap- he wanted to feel those fingers rake through his hair as the warmth of Castiel's stomach and legs heated his head and neck and eased him to sleep.

Blinking, Dean shook his head. He was crushing badly. There was no denying it, no matter how much he wanted to. But he just couldn't put his wants into action. He couldn't risk their friendship and he didn't want to feel heartbroken and in pain when Castiel would undoubtedly deny him.

Dean wasn't good enough. He'd never be good enough for those beautiful ocean of eyes and those soft full lips and the feel of Castiel's hands in his hair. Dean didn't deserve it, and he knew that. Castiel was smart. He was kind and loving and thoughtful and- fuck, he was everything Dean wasn't. The last person Cas would ever want to be with would be Dean, whether he were gay, bi, or straight.

Feeling uneasiness settle into his stomach, Dean took some calming breaths and steeled his emotions before he turned off the water with a squeak of the handle.

But he knew that trying to hide his feelings wouldn't work.

As soon as he'd set his gaze on those blue eyes, Dean knew he'd be lost.

* * *

Castiel stirred awake to the slightly blurry sight of Dean rubbing his hair with a towel, the muscles of his arm rippling with movement underneath his black t-shirt. Castiel raised an appreciative eyebrow before Dean caught his gaze, freezing in his movement.

"Hey, Cas," he whispered, giving his friend a smile.

Castiel smiled back sleepily, sitting up. "'lo," he responded, looking around the room to see that everyone was still asleep. "What time's it?" he asked, squinting for his backpack before he pulled it over, retrieving his glasses.

"It's only ten," Dean responded. "You should sleep a little more," he suggested when Castiel yawned.

"M'not sleepy," he protested, stretching in his seat on the mattress. His stomach suddenly growled and Castiel jumped slightly, shocked. "I suppose I'm hungry, though," he added with an embarrassed grin.

Dean nodded. "Let's get some breakfast," he suggested. "You know, I could teach you how to cook a little," Dean offered, smiling brightly now.

Castiel felt his heart flutter. Cooking over a hot stove when Dean already made him feel abnormally warm inside… the idea quickened his pulse and made him frantic, but he nodded with an enthusiastic smile. "Sure, I'd like that," he responded.

"Alright, let's go," he whispered quietly, tossing his towel onto his desk chair.

They made their way to the kitchen and Dean began pulling out eggs, milk, butter and some basil from the fridge. He also grabbed some cheese and placed the ingredients on the counter .

"We're gonna make a little bit of eggs for just us, right now," Dean began. "Everyone's still asleep so we'll make it fresh for them when they wake up," he told Cas.

Castiel nodded. "What kind of eggs are we making?" he asked as he subtly walked closer to where Dean was standing by the stove top.

"Well, we're gonna go for scrambled since it's the easiest," Dean began as he reached up towards a cupboard to grab a bowl. "Could you grab a pan?" he asked. "They're in the cupboard beneath the stove," he explained.

So Castiel did, reaching around Dean for the pan. When he retrieved it he handed it to Dean, who thanked him and placed it over the stove, putting it over medium heat. "You're gonna wanna butter the pan," Dean explained as he cut off a small square from the stick held in his hand. "Otherwise it'll make one helluva mess for you to scrub off afterwards," Dean told him. "And that's advice from experience," he added with a smirk.

Castiel laughed, nodding. "Alright. Butter the pan, got it," he reassured. "What next?"

"Now we're gonna mix the eggs into a bowl," he said, lifting up the carton of eggs and bowl and placing it closer to Castiel on the countertop, sidling in next to his friend.

Cas could feel his heart race when he smelled Dean's after-shower heat brush off of him, bathing Castiel in the clean and fresh scent. He forced himself not to inhale the enticing aroma, because Dean was bound to notice and that would be hard to explain.

"The way I crack open eggs is by cracking them against each other," Dean explained as he tapped two brown eggs against one another gently but with measured force. "Only one of them will break, and then you slip your thumbs between the break and pull it open gently," Dean explained as he demonstrated, emptying egg yolk and whites into the bowl. "Here, you try," he instructed, handing Castiel the egg he used and another one.

Nodding, Castiel took the eggs, purposefully letting his fingers brush Dean's just the tiniest bit so he could feel that surge of energy and electricity travel under his skin. He tapped the eggs against one another over the bowls, doing so gently….

* * *

 _Cas sticks out his tongue when he concentrates_ , Dean noted as he found his gaze travelling to Castiel's lips where the tiny pink tip of his tongue stuck out from a corner, his mouth hanging open slightly as blue eyes focused. Dean almost didn't realize Castiel was having a hard time.

Blinking, Dean smiled when he saw the two perfectly intact eggs still held within Castiel's gentle hands (fuck, he had never wanted to be a pair of goddamn chicken eggs until now), his fingers grasping around the spherical objects.

"You gotta go a little harder, Cas," Dean instructed. "Not too hard, though," he added, just in case Castiel decided to slam the eggs together under misconception of Dean's words.

Castiel smirked sheepishly. "I just… don't want to make a mess," he explained as he glanced up at Dean then back to the task at hand, tapping the eggs together slightly harder, but barely.

Dean laughed. "That's the whole point of cooking, Cas," Dean encouraged. "It's all one big mess."

Reassured by Dean's words, Castiel tapped the eggs harder.

One of them cracked and Castiel let out a little "oh" of surprise before putting the intact egg on the counter and opening the cracked one, prying it open as Dean had instructed. It was messier than when Dean did it- Castiel got a lot of whites on his hands and the shell cracked under his fingers, but he eventually got a hold of it.

Dean smiled proudly. "There you go, what'd I tell you?" he spoke as he grabbed another egg, handing the two to Castiel. "Try again," he encouraged.

Castiel did, and it went much smoother the second time.

When they had five eggs in their bowl, Dean got a fork and mixed them around a bit before adding some milk to the mix.

"Y'don't wanna add too much, or else it'll be too liquidy and it won't cook well," Dean instructed. "Just a little bit to soften the eggs and make them fluffier," Dean told him before having Castiel add some salt and pepper to the mix. He then reached for the spice cabinet, and added some cumin. Dean mixed the concoction and then poured it onto the pan, the loud sizzling from the impact filling the kitchen.

He had Castiel shred some cheese into the eggs, adding some more salt and pepper to their breakfast. Dean watched proudly as the blue-eyed teen scrambled the eggs with a spatula, putting some basil in on Dean's instruction.

Pretty soon they were sitting across from one another at the dining table (although Dean really wanted to sit beside him), and Dean took a bite from his eggs and toast. It tasted amazing, and Dean downed it with a sip of orange juice.

"Good job, Cas," he complimented, noticing the teen's face redden at the complement.

"It wasn't too difficult," Castiel replied, taking a bite from his breakfast.

"I'll teach you some harder recipes," Dean promised with a smile. Castiel brightened at that, and they continued to talk about things they could make. Castiel spoke about a pineapple upside-down cake he and his mother used to make, and he said he would search for the recipe. Dean wanted to ask Cas more about what he and his mother used to bake, but he stopped himself. The fact that Castiel wanted to share his mother's baking recipes with Dean had made the blond teen's chest fill with warmth. Cas trusted Dean enough to take part in baking with him, something that Dean knew was an activity that used to be reserved specifically for the teen and his deceased-mother. It made Dean feel sort of happy to know that Castiel was slowly but surely growing more comfortable around Dean with every day they spent together.

When they were finished, Dean took their plates and washed them, ignoring Castiel's protests of how he was perfectly capable of washing his own plate. When everything was cleaned up (Castiel put away all the recipes they had used) the two teens made their way to the living room where they watched the remainder of their most previous Indiana Jones movie, Dean being sure to sit on the far side of the couch away from Castiel. Despite his aching want to sit close, Dean squelched it with the thought of what had happened when they slept next to each other last night. That thought shamed him and put him off from trying to attempt to flirt with Cas subtly.

They watched the movie in a comfortable silence until a sleepy Sam and Andy shuffled in.

"Morning, Sammy," Dean greeted his little brother.

"It's not really morning, anymore," his brother responded. Dean looked at the clock to see that it was already one.

"Oh. I guess it's not," he agreed. "I should wake up the others," Dean commented to Cas before getting off the couch to head to his room. Everyone was still fast asleep, exactly in the positions they had been in, previously. Dean woke them up with great effort, eventually having to promise a breakfast of eggs and pancakes to get everyone out of bed with grumpy complaints.

With some moans of protest and incoherent mumbles, the group walked to the living room where they all gathered around the living room table and on the couches, since the dining table did not have enough seats. Jo and Cas offered to help Dean with breakfast, since there were seven hungry teenagers that Dean would have to feed. He let them, and Cas and Dean decided to work on the pancakes first while Jo got the eggs ready.

Dean taught Cas how to make his special pancakes, revealing that he added bits of banana to his mix and some vanilla and cinnamon. Making the mix had been easy for Castiel, but guiding him through flipping the pancakes had proven to be difficult. Dean had grabbed an extra pan so he could work on flipping pancakes beside his friend. Castiel had a hard time making nice-looking circles, and Dean gave him words of encouragement. He told Cas he was doing great, even when one of his pancakes turned into an indented and irregular mess, looking like it had been mistaken for scrambled eggs. Castiel had gone all red and embarrassed, apologizing relentlessly when he looked over to see Dean's perfect circle of a pancake. Dean had told him it was alright, but Castiel still felt awful after messing up a second pancake (not as bad this time), saying that Dean's always turned out so well and expressing his jealousy when he couldn't seem to get it right. So, Dean messed up his pancake as well, turning the rounded edge of the circle into a squiggly mess and purposefully making his lumpy.

When Castiel's eyes had widened at Dean's action, the blond teen laughed, telling him that now both of theirs were crappy. Castiel had smiled at that, and Jo had laughed from her eggs and toast station, telling the two that the group of cranky teenagers squatting in the living room would not be pleased.

That only made Cas and Dean continue in their antics, messing up every pancake's form until there was a stack of impossibly shaped golden pancakes on a plate and they were doubled over with laughter, having to calm themselves so they could take a deep breath of much needed air. But every time they looked at the shameful stack of Frankenstein pancakes, they'd just end up laughing again.

With a roll of her eyes, Jo went to deliver some plates, silverware, and a jug of syrup to the living room, coming back to use the now-empty stove as she completed her eggs. Dean had Cas bring the pancakes to the living room and told him he could stay behind with the others, since all Dean had to do was clean up. When Castiel asked what he should say when the group saw the pancakes, Dean chuckled and told him to say they were special.

After much reassuring that he didn't mind cleaning up, Castiel listened to his friend and picked up the plate of their monstrous breakfast, heading to the living room. As he left Dean watched his retreating figure before turning around to clean out the pancake mix bowl, grabbing it from the counter and walking to the sink.

Jo's eyebrow-raised look aimed towards Dean was what stopped him, though, freezing him in his spot- bowl in his hand.

"What?" he asked, the need to be defensive rising in his throat.

Jo only smiled, though, shaking her head before turning back to her eggs. "You have it so bad," she commented, mixing the eggs in the pan as she added some cheese.

Dean's eyes widened, his heart racing. "What are you-" he began, but Jo looked at him with a "no bullshit" expression and Dean held his tongue, realizing arguing with her would be impossible. He shuffled awkwardly in his spot before making his way to the sink to wash his bowl. "Don't you think I already know that?" he commented gruffly, angry that he couldn't keep back the statement.

He could see Jo turn to face him from his peripheral vision, but he didn't want to look at her. This was the closest Dean has ever gotten to telling somebody his emotions, and honestly it felt really fucking good not to keep it all to himself. It was like he was letting a little more of his needs leak from the dam within him. So he scrubbed at his bowl, trying to lessen the blush that crept into his cheeks.

"Why don't you tell him?" Jo asked, genuinely curious.

Dean gritted his teeth. There were a thousand fucking reasons.

 _One_ , Dean's dad would kill him if he were to come out gay.

 _Two_ , Castiel didn't like him back.

 _Three_ , he would ruin his friendship with Cas just like he ruined every other fucking relationship he's had with people he cares about.

 _Four_ , Cas was too fucking good for him.

 _Five_ , Dean was just really, _really_   _scared._

There were so many reasons, but he couldn't tell any of those to Jo. The last thing he wanted was to sound like a teenaged girl going through relationship and self-esteem issues.

"Those eggs are gonna burn if you don't keep mixing them," Dean commented, looking Jo dead in the eyes as he steeled his emotions, setting his face neutral.

Jo moved the pan off of the stove, turning off the dial. She turned to face him, hands on her hips. "Why won't you tell him?" she asked again, brown eyes searching Dean's, demanding answers.

Dean's jaw clenched as he tried to lie to her- tried to distract from the conversation they were having. Because, damnit, how could he talk about his feelings when he didn't even fully understand them, himself?

"It's complicated, Jo," he replied through his teeth before turning back to wash his already-clean bowl.

"It sure as hell doesn't look like it," Jo retorted. "You like him, and he obviously likes you back. Why don't you just go for it?" she asked.

Dean was definitely blushing, now, and no amount of self power could prevent that. He took a deep breath and let it out. "How could you possibly know that?" he asked as he forced himself to look at Jo, needing to see for himself whether she was lying or not. Castiel's feelings towards Dean was a sensitive topic in his distorted thoughts, and Dean didn't want to get any false hopes that would later be shut down.

Jo raised her eyebrow again. "Are you kidding me?" she exclaimed. When Dean just stared at her seriously, her eyebrows furrowed. "You- you haven't even  _noticed?"_ Jo commented. " _Jesus_ , you don't even have to  _look_ , the sexual tension between you two makes the air a mile around five times thicker."

Dean glared. "Jo, I really don't-"

" _Wait_ , I'm not finished," she interrupted, putting a hand up to stop him from talking. "Besides the intense eye sex you two always have, you can literally  _see_  the chemistry between you guys. You'd have to be blind not to," Jo told him. "I mean,  _come on,_ Dean," she added, arms outstretched in exasperation.

Dean huffed out a breath, looking at the wall to his right before he looked in the direction of the living room. His gaze moved to Jo, and he looked at her almost brokenly. "I like him, Jo. But there's no way he likes me, and it's obvious," he replied, feeling the need to vomit. God, he was admitting it. He was saying it aloud and now there was no turning back. He was letting Jo see the worst of him- the thoughts he had about himself that he couldn't even think about for too long before he grew sick. "He's just  _nice_ to me because I'm nice to him. It's how he is with everyone, and it doesn't make me fucking special, alright?" he told her. "I don't even know why the fuck I'm talking to you about this," he said as he went back to washing his bowl. It was silent for a few minutes as Jo stared incredulously at her friend.

"Do you  _honestly_ feel that low about yourself?" Jo asked, astonished. Dean's silence did the answering for her, and her eyes widened. "Dean…" she began, but Dean turned off the sink harshly, placing the bowl on the counter as he grabbed a towel to wipe his hands.

He turned to face the blond girl, pointing at her. "Not a word of this, we clear?" he ordered, definitely past talking about it any further.

Jo pursed her lips, agitated, but she eventually nodded. "Not a word," she agreed.

That's when Dean left to the living room, avoiding sitting next to Castiel on the couch as he plopped down on an empty love seat, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat.

This sucked.

After Jo had come in with the eggs and joined the group at the table in the living room, Dean felt the couch cushion beside him sink. He looked to his left to see Cas giving him a big smile.

"Hello," the glasses-clad teen greeted, and Dean blinked with shock.

"Hi," he replied before looking away and at the floor. He could almost see the dark mop of hair tilt to the side in Castiel's signature questioning look. Dean felt Castiel's warm arm bump into his own, comfortingly.

"So, will we still be having our Mission Impossible marathon, tonight?" Castiel asked, smiling brightly when Dean looked up at him.

Dean felt his heart race when he saw Jo looking at him out of the corner of his eye, a smirk on her lips.

He tore his gaze away from her and averted it to his friend. Castiel had approached Dean when he hadn't sat next to him. Castiel had reached out to Dean because he knew something was up, and because he  _cared._ Even if Castiel didn't feel the same towards Dean as Dean felt towards Cas, he knew he still had one hell of an awesome friend.

Gazing at Cas's eyes for a second, he nodded, smiling back.

"Yeah. Sure, Cas," Dean agreed with a quirk of his lips.

Castiel looked satisfied. "I'm excited. It'll be fun," he commented before leaning back into the couch.

Dean was really smiling, now. "Yeah, it will," he replied.

So Dean buried away the frantic, troubled thoughts within his mind. He didn't want to deal with them when Castiel was so close and so warm and so very  _here._

Smiling to himself, Dean listened to his friends comment on their pancakes, shoving it around their plates like a science experiment gone wrong.

* * *

It was nine o'clock, and the last of the guests had left. Sam was in his room, fast asleep (he was still burnt out from staying up the other night), and Bobby had given Dean a knowing look when he learned that Dean and Cas would be staying up watching movies… alone. He had retreated to his room, telling Dean he'd give him and his  _"friend"_ some time to themselves. Dean had glared at his uncle as he retreated, fighting the blush that spread through his cheeks. Thank God Castiel hadn't been there to hear that comment or see Dean's flustered response.

This was the first time Dean and Cas would be hanging out by themselves. And, even though Dean has hung out with Cas a bunch, he felt sorta nervous.

Geez, Dean was turning into such a sap about this whole thing. Honestly, it was just  _Cas_. This weird thing Dean had for him would probably go away, soon. It was probably just a phase.

Keeping that in mind, Dean made a bowl of popcorn and prepared the leftover snacks and candy from the previous night while Cas showered (in  _Dean's_ shower, using  _Dean's_ shampoo and  _Dean's_ body wash).

Stowing away the thought of Castiel smelling like Dean's soap, the blond teen sorted through his Mission Impossible movies. He had the first three, and those alone would take about six hours to watch. Dean wondered if Castiel was alright with staying up late, again. He normally gave up at around two in the morning, and the movies would most likely end at around three.

They should just go to sleep. They should go to sleep and not do this and not sit so close to each other and talk to each other and-

Cas walked into the room wearing a hoodie and a pair of light gray sweatpants, glasses propped on his nose and hair damp from his shower. It was by far the most casual Dean had ever seen the teen, and he stopped himself from staring as he sat down on the couch, being sure to leave enough room for Cas to sit a distance away.

Grabbing the remote, Dean looked back at his friend, giving a smile. "You ready?" he asked.

Castiel smiled, blue eyes crinkling with those adorable crow's feet as he nodded. "Yes," he responded, grabbing the bowl of popcorn on the table and sitting next to Dean- close, despite the room the blond boy had left- as he placed the bowl of popcorn between them. Dean could smell his shampoo in Castiel's hair and his body wash on his skin, mixing with the scent of Cas's clothes. Somehow, Castiel's signature scent still made its way to Dean's senses, overriding all of Dean's bathing products. He still smelled like Cas, but with just a little bit of Dean added on.

It was a nice combination.

Taking a deep breath, Dean clicked play.

He tried to act normal throughout the movie, commenting on things like usual and double checking to make sure Cas was watching during his favorite parts. He even got Cas to laugh a couple of times when he would quote a whole scene very dramatically and make some jokes about the special effects.

By the time Dean had put the second movie in the DVD player and sat on the couch, Cas spoke up.

"Thank you for letting me stay here, Dean," Castiel told him with a soft smile when his friend looked over at him. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me," he added.

Dean smiled back. "Yeah, well I'm glad you decided to come," Dean responded. "Hell, I haven't had this much fun in… ever," Dean concluded, fiddling with the remote in his hands.

Castiel was smiling as he took a swig from a coke can. "Me neither," he responded.

Dean glanced at his friend before looking back at the movie as he fast forwarded through previews. "Y'know, Cas, you can come over whenever you want," he told him.

He heard the teen chuckle. "Ah, don't get me used to the idea," he responded with a smile. "I must warn you- I'm quite the burden," Castiel added before looking over at Dean, making the blond boy turn to meet his gaze. They stared at each other for a bit before Dean averted his eyes.

 _I don't mind_ , he thought.

But, of course, that's not what he said.

"Uh, well you're practically family, at this point," he said. "And this is sorta a burden-carrying family," Dean added with a tight smile.

Castiel smiled softly as he looked at the screen. "Thank you," he replied. "Really. Thank you," he added when Dean had dismissed Cas's first thank you with a wave of his hand. Dean froze at the second one, unable to stop himself from looking over at his friend. His voice sounded grateful- relieved, almost. It was the most genuine thing he had ever heard from the dark-haired boy.

Dean's smile was real this time, and it warmed him, brushing away all his worries from throughout the day. "You're welcome. Now quiet down, the movie's starting," he said as he stopped his fast forwarding right in time for the opening credits.

Much to Dean's surprise, Castiel turned out loving the movies. He didn't fall asleep, eyes glued on the screen and voice encouraging Dean to put in the third movie when they had finished their second one. They talked occasionally, about school and class and the movie, and just random things that would pop into their heads. 

Cas was enthralled with the flaming cheetos Dean had bought. After much enthusiastic urging on Dean's part, the teen agreed to try it when Dean had told him that they're not  _that_ spicy.

Cas ate one.

Then before Dean could even comprehend it, the dark-haired teen ate the whole bag, clutching onto it throughout the movie. His hand would disappear into the plastic of the bag every couple of seconds with almost a zombie like pattern.

Dean chuckled when he noticed Castiel looking into his empty bag with a sort of disappointed shock on his face. "Y'know, for a skinny guy you eat like a whale," Dean commented after handing the teen a bottle of water. Cas had gone through about five different drinks as he ate the flaming cheetos, and he accepted the bottled drink with a sheepish smile.

"They tasted very good," Castiel defended. "I did not even notice I had finished them," he remarked, throwing the trash away into the garbage bag Dean had set up by the table.

"Well, I'm glad you like them," Dean replied. "I can barely eat a couple before those things burn a hole in my stomach," Dean commented. He didn't like them too much, to be honest. He had mostly given the snack to Cas to see his reaction when he realized how spicy they were. That didn't happen, of course, and Dean was thoroughly disappointed when Castiel commented on how Dean was right, they're not spicy.

"I believe I'm starting to feel the effect," Castiel commented bitterly after finishing his bottle of water and tossing it into the garbage bag, reaching for another coke.

Dean laughed as he noticed Castiel sticking his tongue out slightly. "Sorry, Cas," he apologized as his friend downed gulps of the cold soda. "But I didn't expect you to eat the whole damn bag," he pointed out.

So Dean paused the movie, doubled over laughing, as Castiel excused himself to go to the bathroom where he brushed his teeth and use some mouthwash. He walked back into the room with a grumpy look on his face, and sat down next to Dean unconsciously, so their sides pressed against one another. That had shut up Dean quick, and he turned the movie back on as he tried to relax his tense muscles and lean back into the worn cushions of his couch.

"I still think they taste good," Castiel commented in a sort of stubborn way. Dean laughed, again.

"I'll get you a small bag next time," Dean replied with a smile.

Maybe it was the flaming Cheetos, but Castiel's body seemed extra warm against Dean's at that moment.

When they finished their movie marathon it was three forty in the morning. Castiel retreated to Dean's room while Dean went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and rinse his mouth out with mouthwash. He walked into his room greeted with the site of Castiel lying on his back, arms crossed under his head and sweater riding up over his bony hips, again.

For fuck's sake, was Cas purposefully trying to turn Dean on?

Cas had taken off his glasses, and his blue eyes gazed up at the white of the ceiling in an almost concentrating way- eyebrows furrowed and lips drawn into a line.

"Cas?" Dean called quietly, almost hesitant as to whether or not he should interrupt the teen's deep thinking.

Cas started, sitting up and looking at Dean. "Yes?" he asked.

Dean licked his lips, shuffling by the foot of his bed. "Are you alright?" he whispered. "You seemed," he broke off, gesturing to nothing.

Castiel gave a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm fine," he replied. "Just tired," he reassured as he curled up into his mattress, dragging his blanket over him. "Goodnight, Dean," he murmured.

"Goodnight," he replied before slipping into his own bed, settling into the mattress and letting the dark of his room ease his thoughts.

He fell asleep.


	15. Drifting

On Sunday morning, Dean brought Cas home.

The next two weeks had been quiet- uneventful, almost.

Castiel and Dean paired up on a project for Lit class, so now Castiel had excuses to give his father for going over to the Winchester's so often. His father hadn't yelled at Castiel or hurt him in quite a while, mostly due to the cases he was working, and his extremely busy schedule that kept him out of the house more often than not. Mr. Novak had even begun to let Castiel eat, again, after the teen had shown him his eighty-nine average (a product of acing a project that counted towards a big part of his grade). Things were definitely less tense in the Novak household, and Castiel was very grateful for that.

Castiel's bruises were already healing, his face back to its regular color due to Castiel's many treatments he performed. His abdomen had healed, and the school nurse had even checked up on Castiel a few times (since he refused to have his dad take him to a doctor), and checked for internal bleeding every now and then. She said it was a miracle that Castiel hadn't gotten as injured as he should have. Castiel blamed the fact that Alastair was a wimpy kicker.

He hadn't cut since the Saturday after his birthday, and his wounds were starting to heal fast, leaving behind reddened scars that awaited new companions. Dean had asked Castiel about the cut on his palm (from when Castiel had gripped onto his razor during his panic attack the Saturday after his birthday), but Castiel had just told his friend that he had broken a glass at his house and cut his palm while cleaning. Dean believed him, and Castiel promised himself he wouldn't cut, again. He honestly didn't feel the need to, anymore. But when he did get those urges- those tugs in his chest and those dark voices whispering in his mind, Castiel would just text Dean and they would talk about random things until the feeling slowly slithered away, buried in the back of his head along with all the other taunting thoughts that thrived there.

Castiel tutored Sam most days, and the younger teen passed every test he came across. Dean applied for the job at the auto shop back during the last day of the break, and they said they'd get back to him. A couple of days later, he had his interview. Rufus said he'd call Dean in a week, and as the week started to end Dean grew impatient. He waited anxiously, and Castiel would constantly tell him not to worry, reassuring him that he would definitely get the job. It was all Dean seemed to talk about with Castiel, nowadays. He told Cas about how much he liked the place- how he could imagine himself working there. Castiel would comfort him when he caught the blond boy checking his phone, and he'd distract him with their project, busying his friend's mind with thoughts of Tennyson, the poet the two had been assigned to make a presentation about.

They hung out with the group a lot during the weekends, and sometimes after school. Mostly, they'd all go to Charlie's house and play pool as they lounged around lazily, but it was still always fun. Castiel even went to Chuck's house the weekend after break, spending a whole Saturday there as he read the first book to Chuck's series. Seeing how interested his friend was in it, Chuck gave him a flashdrive with the whole first book (he had edited it so the characters were now named after Sam and Dean), telling Castiel he'd add the second book on there when Cas was done. Castiel had thanked his friend, and they'd talk about the book relentlessly during lunch at school, Jo rolling her eyes when she overheard them as she commented on it as well with a teasing smile. Jo had known about the books for a long time, apparently. It was actually how Jo and Chuck met. Back in middle school Chuck had a dream about Jo (she was in his math class) being a character in his book. He had gone up to her the next day and told her, and instead of finding it weird, Jo was intrigued. They had become friends instantly, and Jo has read every piece of writing Chuck has produced. Jo asked Chuck if he was planning on killing her off in the novel (since apparently that's what happened to most characters), and he simply shrugged, saying that he'd do what came to him in his dreams.

Jo and Dean grew close, Castiel noted. They seemed to have a sort of unspoken connection, looking at each other with the same face and talking in hushed whispers every now and then. At first, Castiel felt a pang of panic when he thought that maybe Dean had feelings for Jo. But, after observing closely over the course of a few days, he realized that they were just friends and nothing more, and he felt rather silly for thinking otherwise.

Alastair stopped bullying Castiel, mostly. All the in-school attacks had stopped, that was for sure. The bully had been allowed to attend school for the week after break in order to serve detention, but once the second week started he had been effectively suspended. For how long, Castiel didn't know.  But the principal couldn't control what Alastair did outside of school. There was one incident in particular where Dean and Cas were walking out of a store after buying supplies for their project when they had been pelted by what seemed to be about ten eggs. The eggs had been assailed at them from the window of a driving pick-up truck, and the howls of laughter that followed could not be mistaken for any other than Alastair and his friends.

They had quickly driven away with a very pissed off Dean cursing them out, yelling obscenities and threats before Castiel managed to get him to calm down, putting a hand on his shoulder as the older Winchester's muscles relaxed. He remembered Dean looking at Castiel with confusion and what seemed like angry sadness, and that's when Castiel gave him a small smile, telling Dean not to let Alastair gain the pleasure of seeing him angry.

Dean had taken Cas to his house after that, and he let him borrow an old green long-sleeve of his, along with a pair of sweatpants while their clothes tumbled around in the washing machine as they worked on their project. The shirt smelled like Dean's cologne, and Castiel would constantly put the sleeve to his nose to sniff whenever Dean wasn't looking, trying to memorize the scent so he could search for it in a store.

Dean never did ask for his clothes back, Castiel noted.

And Castiel may or may not have slept in the shirt later that night so his bed could smell like Dean.

Later the next day, Dean and Cas had their revenge. They got to school around six in the afternoon, and Dean picklocked Alastair's locker and put a giant old fish in there, adding two eggs just for the bitter irony. It served their purpose even further when they discovered Alastair's backpack abandoned in the locker. Castiel then jammed the lock in a way so it couldn't get open without the help of a custodian. Needless to say, after a day of indoor heating, a not-very-nice smell had filled most of hall B. Alastair had given Castiel and Dean nasty glares when they went into the locker room at gym class the next day. His backpack reeked of fish, and the smell followed him wherever he went.

It gave something for Dean and Cas to laugh about as they ran the track together, sneaking glances at a grumpy Alastair before bursting into hysterical laughter that grabbed the attention of basically the whole gym class.

After the whole incident with the lunchroom, Dean walked Castiel to most of his classes, letting Jo, Charlie, and everyone else walk him to his others. Castiel was never alone, except in classes where he didn't have his friends. Even then, he'd see them waiting for him right outside the hallway when his class was over.

Castiel stayed behind in detention with Dean, even though he didn't need to. He pretended to be doing extra work for Mrs. Madison so Alastair and Gordon couldn't tell on him, and he kept Dean company for the week. He'd sit by his friend after finishing wiping Mrs. Madison's whiteboard and helping her grade papers, and they'd play hangman for hours (since there were no cell phones allowed). Castiel would always try to lean in along with Dean as they hunched over the piece of paper, bodies so close together, and the warm air between them buzzing with electricity that he had grown addicted to, these days.

And if Mrs. Madison gazed at the two teens with a fond smile on her face, Castiel was sure to ignore it.

On a Monday during the fifth of December, Dean was in a great mood when he picked up Castiel from his house to go to school. Led Zeppelin was playing in the car, and Castiel smiled, knowing what was up before he could even think to ask.

"You got the job?" he exclaimed, smiling wide when Dean's smile brightened.

Dean laughed, nodding. "I got it!" he replied.

Castiel let out a breathy laugh of astonishment, patting his friend on the shoulder after he settled into his seat. "You see," he began, smiling wide as he squeezed Dean's shoulder and brought his hand back, "I told you you would!" he reminded him.

Dean gave Castiel his best toothpaste-commercial smile, the crinkles that lined his bright green eyes enhancing his happy features all the more. "Yeah, you did," he agreed, pulling out of the driveway as they made their way to school.

"When did they call you back?" Castiel asked. He wanted to know every detail.

"After I dropped off Sammy early for his study session, this morning. I literally just heard the news thirty minutes ago," Dean explained, a grin plastered almost permanently on his face. So that was why Dean was still so ecstatic.

Castiel was full of energy, happy for his friend. "When do you start?" he asked, eager to learn more.

"This Wednesday," Dean replied. "I work Wednesdays through Saturdays," he added.

Castiel's smile suddenly dropped as he realized how little they'd be hanging out, now. Dean noticed the quiet response and glanced at his friend, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, cheer up," he responded with a pat on Castiel's arm. "I'll still be able to drop you off and hang out some days. I'll text you the hours, 'kay?" he suggested with a smile.

Castiel smiled back, the happy mood returning. It was selfish of him to be upset. Dean had been waiting to get this job for weeks. "Yeah, I know. I'm happy for you, Dean," Castiel replied, truthfully, as they pulled into the school and got out of the car.

So they made their way to homeroom, Dean talking about what he'd be doing at the auto shop and explaining his work hours to Cas, texting it down on his phone before he sent it to his friend.

When they got to lunch later in the day, Jo noticed Dean's very sunny personality right away.

"What are you so happy about?" She asked with a smile as Dean sat next to her and Cas sat across from him, in his regular seat between Charlie and Adam.

Dean gave her a cheeky smile. "I got a job at an auto shop," he responded.

"He's been waiting to hear back from them for a while," Castiel added in an undertone when Jo's eyebrows furrowed.

Suddenly, she slumped her shoulders. "Well, congratz and all but if you had told me you wanted a job I coulda given you one!" she began. "My mom needs a waiter for her diner," Jo added.

Dean scrunched up his nose. "Eh, that's not really my thing, Jo. I'd rather fix up cars than walk around carrying food and jotting down orders," Dean replied, taking a sip from his water bottle. "Let me know if you guys need a chef one day," he added with an eyebrow raise and a smirk.

Castiel suddenly got a rush of motivation. "I could work at the diner," he offered. He wanted to start earning money, and if he got the job his father couldn't stop him from working there, especially now that he had met Ellen and would know how forceful she could get.

Jo smiled, eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Y'know, that'd be awesome!" she replied. "Ash and I already work there, so you'd be able to hang out with us," she added with another smile.

Castiel smiled. "I'd like that," he responded.

Jo clapped her hands together, pink lips stretched into a smile. "Perfect! Let me run it by my mom and then I'll call you," she promised him.

Castiel nodded, and the table continued to congratulate Dean on his job, asking him for his work schedule so they'd know when he'd be able to hang out. Dean explained it all to them, and there were a few complaints when they realized how much he'd be working. Nonetheless, they were all very happy for their friend.

Dean and Cas talked to one another about their project for the rest of lunch, Castiel moving to sit next to Dean as they leaned over their notes and other sheets, shoulders touching and air buzzing.

And Castiel savored that moment with his friend, because he knew that they would not be seeing much of each other, anymore.

* * *

When Castiel had gone home that day, he studied relentlessly for his math test he'd be having on Wednesday. It would be their last test of the semester, and the rest of the last two weeks would be used for reviewing and preparing for the semester exam. Even though his father had been going easier on Castiel recently, he still knew that he wouldn't hesitate to kick him out if Castiel didn't get all A's.

So Castiel kept that in mind as he rolled the eraser of his pencil between his teeth, eyes scanning over his answers to double check them. His phone buzzed, jolting him from his concentration and he removed his pencil from his lips, put it down, and flipped open his phone to see a jumping mail emoticon with Dean's name below it.

Clicking open the message, Castiel looked at the picture that was sent. A burnt pizza sat on Dean's dining table, and a very unhappy Sam sat across from it, a pout on his face. Lips quirking in amusement, Castiel read the message below it.

_Dean: Got distracted w/ my hw & burned dinner. Sam's not amused_

Chuckling, Castiel's smile stretched wider. Just as he was about to put his phone down, another message made the small device buzz.

_Dean: The one time I try to do work, I burn a pizza. I should stop doin hw, its bad luck_

Castiel rolled his eyes, still smiling before he responded.

_Castiel: Do not use your failure to put a timer on the oven as an excuse for you not to do your Chemistry homework, Dean._

Only seconds after he had placed his phone down, it vibrated again, lighting up.

_Dean: Well excuse me mr perfect. Im bored, u should come over_

Castiel smirked. He had been at Dean's house almost every day last week.

_Castiel: I have a math test to study for. Besides, you've got Chemistry to work on._

Castiel went back to work, scribbling down equations and mathematical rules until he memorized them. His phone buzzed.

_Dean: Ur test isnt until Wed. U can help me w/ chem & i can give u a whole burnt pizza_

_Castiel: You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Winchester. But my answer still stands. No._

Putting his phone down, again, Castiel continued working. He had almost thought Dean had given up before his phone buzzed, again.

_Dean: Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssss_

Castiel ignored it, deciding Dean would give up sooner or later and let him study.

He was wrong.

_Dean: Dont b a jerk_

_Dean: Respond_

_Dean: Cmonnnn_

_Dean: Casss don't be an asss_

Sighing, Castiel's thumbs typed on the keyboard, pressing fingers into stiff buttons.

_Castiel: Tomorrow._

_Dean: Fine._

_Dean: No burnt pizza 4 u_

_Castiel: I'll try to help myself get over the emotional pain._

Not even ten minutes later, Castiel's phone buzzed with a call.

Sighing, Castiel grabbed his phone and flipped it open, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

"Dean, I swear to-"

"Cas?" Jo's voice interrupted, confused.

"Oh, hello, Jo," Castiel corrected himself, sitting up straighter in his seat as he fought off the embarrassment he felt climb its way into his cheeks. "Sorry, I thought you were-"

"Dean?" she cut him off. "Yeah, I could tell," she spoke with a laugh.

Castiel smiled, leaning over his desk again as he moved his phone to his left hand, grabbing his pencil with his right and working on math. "How are you?" he asked absentmindedly, turning the page of his textbook as he worked on a new set of problems.

"I'm good, Cas. I'm callin' about the job," she explained. Castiel was confused for a moment before his eyebrows rose in understanding.

"Oh!" he responded, sitting up again. "Yes, what did Ellen say?" he asked, feeling a nervous twist in his stomach. He had almost forgot about working at the restaurant.

"She said she'd love to have you work at the diner," Jo replied, a smile in her voice. "She just wants you to come over tomorrow to discuss work hours and rules and stuff," she explained.

"Yes, I can do that," Castiel replied, smiling into the phone now.

"Awesome! Hey, you could ride my bus if you want? It'd be easier for you to get to my house," Jo insisted.

Castiel agreed, and the two planned out where they'd meet. They bid each other a farewell, and Castiel hung up. Almost suddenly, Castiel remembered promising Dean he'd come over, tomorrow.

Quickly, he dialed Dean's number. After a ring, Dean picked up.

"Miss me, already?" Dean's snarky voice inquired. "I already threw away the pizza, Cas," Dean added as he shuffled with what sounded like silverware and plates.

Castiel rolled his eyes. "It's not that," he corrected. "I'm going to have to cancel hanging out, tomorrow," the blue-eyed boy informed his friend.

"Why?" Dean asked automatically, seeming shocked.

"I'm going to Jo's house to talk to Ellen about the job," Castiel responded, feeling guilty. He  _had_ promised Dean he'd hang out.

"Oh," Dean responded. The noise of silverware clinking stopped, and a silence followed.

"I'm really sorry, Dean," Castiel apologized, feeling awful, now.

"Nah, no, it's no problem," Dean insisted. "No problem. Uh, do you need a ride to Jo's house after school?" he asked.

"No, I will be riding Jo's bus," Castiel replied, playing with his pencil distractedly.

"Oh, okay," Dean responded. It was silent for a few seconds. "Guess we won't really be seein' much of each other, huh?" Dean inquired in a light tone of voice, but Castiel could sense the disappointment hidden underneath. "Y'know, since we're both gonna be workin', now," Dean added to clarify himself.

Castiel bit his lip. "That's not true. We have three classes together, and homeroom. And, well, we still have car rides in the morning? Unless you've decided you hate me, now," Castiel joked, but he still felt a twinge of panic.

Dean chuckled at that. "Nah, Cas, I don't hate you. Y'know, I could just visit you at work, some days. That way I can see Jo and Ash, too. I could bring Charlie and Chuck and Adam and we can all hang out like normal."

Castiel smiled, a fluttering feeling in his chest. "I'd like that, a lot," he replied truthfully.

It was silent, but this time the air was lighter. Castiel could almost picture Dean smiling on the other end. "Man, I can't  _wait_ to order you around and have you serve me," Dean joked, earning a laugh from Castiel.

"Careful, Dean, or I might do something to your food," Castiel warned with a smile.

"Psht, y'know you wouldn't," Dean countered.

"Don't test me," Castiel challenged back.

Dean responded with a laugh, giving in. "Alright, alright, I believe you. So have you really got this job?" Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged, even though he knew Dean couldn't see him. "I'm not very sure. I suppose it'll be confirmed, tomorrow," he admitted.

"I'm sure you've got it," Dean replied. "Ellen's in love with ya," he added.

Castiel smiled. Ellen had been sort of like a motherly figure towards Castiel, recently. Every time he was at Jo's house, Ellen would always give him some sort of extra treatment. Like, for example, if everyone was eating dinner at her place, she would always pour Castiel a little extra food. Also, she'd always smile at him and direct conversations towards him whenever they were in the same room. It was the motherly attention that Castiel always sort of craved, and he happily accepted it.

Castiel found that he really liked Ellen, and that he was more excited than he originally thought at the idea of working for her.

"Yes, Ellen has been very kind to me," Castiel agreed.

"Yeah… well, hey, are you sure you don't wanna come over, today?" Dean asked hopefully. Castiel looked at his alarm clock. It was seven.

"It's getting late, Dean," Castiel replied.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, yeah, alright. Well, I'll see you in the morning, then. Good luck on your math," Dean spoke.

Castiel smiled. "Goodnight. Finish your chemistry homework," he ordered.

" _Yes, sir_ ," Dean replied before hanging up.

So Castiel put his phone away and worked on deciphering the equations that danced around his textbook, tauntingly reminding him of his test that was soon to come.

* * *

It was very early when Castiel woke up in the morning, so he showered for thirty minutes straight, smiling in the warmth the water provided him, too stubborn to go back out into the cold air of his bedroom. When he finished bathing, he grabbed a towel and dried himself, wrapping it around his waist while he searched his closet for some suitable clothes. He settled with a clean pair of jeans and a deep blue button up shirt, slipping on a black cardigan and his navy blue jacket over that. He brushed his teeth and put in his contacts, brushing his hair and trying to tame it, somewhat. He really needed that trim.

It was still early, so Castiel decided to pack himself a lunch before he headed out.

Ever since his father began letting Castiel eat again, the dark-haired teen resumed packing his own lunches for school. It took one more thing off of Dean's list of favors he did for Cas, and that fact alone made Castiel feel so much better.

That was part of the reason Castiel was getting a job in the first place. He wanted to pay back Dean for everything he did, and he wanted to be able to buy his own things and not have to depend on anyone for anything. Maybe he'd even be able to get his license and a car, later on down the road.

Christmas was coming, soon, and Castiel wondered day after day what he should get for Dean. It had to be something amazing- something to thank Dean for everything he had done for him.

But Castiel just couldn't think of anything. He knew Dean's most prized possessions were his music, his car, and Sammy. That was basically it. He liked classic movies and licorice wheels and pie, but all those things weren't really stuff that Cas could just get him. In all honesty, Castiel thought those would make awful presents.

As cheesy as it sounded, he wanted his gift to mean something special to Dean. He wanted it to hold more value than it seemed to contain. Castiel wasn't very great at making things, so that was out of the question… what could he make that Dean would actually want to keep?

Sighing, Castiel placed his bagged lunch in his backpack right as he heard the rumble of the Impala pulling into his driveway.

He supposed he'd have to keep thinking.

* * *

When Castiel climbed into the car, Dean had to blink twice at his friend and force himself to look at the steering wheel to stop himself from staring.

Cas's fucking button up.

The top two buttons were undone, exposing the smooth promise of skin that laid underneath, his collarbones evident and the muscles of his neck standing out. Not to mention, the color of his shirt basically made his eyes pop, shining amazingly bright with every shade of blue imaginable. It was the most alluring thing Dean had ever seen in those freaking oceans held within Castiel's gaze.

Shit, if Cas had added glasses to his outfit nothing would've stopped Dean from pouncing onto the dark-haired teenager and "making his mark", so to speak.

Well, nothing except the fact that Sam was sitting in the backseat.

" _Dean_ ," Sam's voice called. Dean blinked, back to Earth, and looked in the rearview mirror. "Are we going or not?" his little brother asked.

Dean glanced at Cas, whose eyebrows were furrowed, eyes squinted and head tilted in his signature confused expression.

"Uh, yeah, sorry," Dean replied, pulling out of the driveway and making his way to Sammy's school. The drive was quiet, just the soft hum of music playing in the background. After they had dropped off Sammy, Cas spoke.

"Are you alright, Dean?" Castiel asked.

Dean had almost jumped at Castiel's gravelly voice, not expecting him to speak. He looked at his friend, his heart pumping so loud that Dean turned up the music slightly when he was afraid Castiel would hear it.  _Yeah, I'd be fucking alright if you would stop fucking unintentionally seducing me with your goddamn blue button up._

"Yeah, I'm good," Dean replied, driving into the school parking lot.

Castiel seemed hesitant. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, man, I'm just tired," Dean replied, giving his friend a smile. "Stayed up all night doing chem homework," Dean explained. That part was true, but it had nothing to do with Dean's behavior.

Castiel grinned. "At least you got it done," he spoke, making Dean smirk.

"Yeah, it wasn't worth the three hours that I could've spent sleeping," Dean replied as they parked, climbing out of the car. "Hey," Dean began as they walked side-by-side to homeroom, "I could pick you up from Jo's house, later on," Dean offered, nonchalantly letting their shoulders brush slightly before he put a little space between them.

Castiel smiled, and the simple gesture made Dean's heart flutter. "That would be great, actually. Thanks," he replied.

"No problem," Dean replied. "You busy this Sunday? We still gotta finish up our project."

Castiel smiled. "I'm sure we can meet up before that," he insisted. We'll move around your work schedule, and then on Sunday we can finalize the project," Castiel planned as they sat in their seats in homeroom.

Dean smiled. "Well, if you don't mind staying up late then we can definitely work on it after school," Dean answered. His work at the auto shop normally ended around seven or eight on weekdays. During Saturdays he worked from two until ten at night and on Fridays he worked till eleven, past closing time to repair some cars and do some paperwork after hours, then close up the shop. Apparently it would be paying well, so Dean didn't mind having his Fridays taken away from him.

Hell, the more time Dean spent being distracted from his huge crush on Castiel, the better.

* * *

When they got to first period, Dean and Cas were paired with two other students into a group for a classwork analytic activity of a passage from the book they were currently reading,  _Beowulf._ Their group consisted of two girls, Meredith and Grace, and themselves. The two ladies seemed enthralled to work with Dean- but not so much with Cas.

Castiel had to hide his smile when Dean would avert his conversations to Cas instead of the girls that were basically drooling at Dean's feet. He would give Castiel his full undivided attention, asking him what he thought about a certain line when the girls would direct all their questions towards Dean. Castiel would say the answer and explain it- since that was what this assignment was for- and the girls would murmur agreements, not looking into Castiel's eyes as they scrawled answers down onto their group sheet. Whenever Castiel spoke, Dean would smile at him brightly- as if Castiel were an angel of the lord- and the dark-haired boy wished he had a camera because the faces the girls were pulling in front of him were priceless. Dean would just give the pair polite smiles when they spoke to him and attempted at flirting, but he wouldn't give them anything more. By the end of the assignment they were working on, the two ladies were positively fuming with frustration.

When they were wrapping up their conclusions, Dean caught a nasty look that Grace was giving Castiel- one that Cas was trying to ignore.

"Is there a problem?" Dean asked, and the girl looked over at him, eyes wide. She recovered, replacing her surprised look with a distasteful frown.

"Well, to be completely honest, why the hell are you hanging out with…" she didn't seem to want to utter Castiel's name, flicking a manicured hand in Castiel's direction. "I mean, it's totally sweet that you're all charitable, or whatever. But you're being sorta rude. What's so great about him and not everyone else at this school?" she asked, eyes angry, now. It seemed as though she had been aching to ask this question, and nothing was holding her back, now. "You treat everyone else here like they're fucking unworthy and then you go around acting as though people like  _him_  are better company than us," she continued. "We never did anything wrong to you, Dean. Alastair was nice to you, and then you turned on him and tried to make him into some sort of a joke," she exclaimed, angry. Meredith was staring down Dean, as well, eyes set on the blond boy with a snakelike gaze

Castiel's heart basically stopped in his chest at her statement. She was right. He had been wondering that ever since the first day Dean talked to him.

What made him better?

What made a person as amazing as Dean want to associate himself with the likes of Castiel?

It just didn't make sense. Dean had everything handed to him the moment he got here- and he just threw it all away. And for what? For Castiel? What did he want to gain out of this? What was the point? Why work so hard at something so worthless?

Castiel looked down at the table, his ears burning with embarrassment and self-consciousness.

Dean didn't answer her question. Instead, he directed one back at her, eyebrow raised and lips puckered thoughtfully. "Yeah, uh-huh... well, tell me- what makes you all think you're so much better than Castiel?" Dean asked, coolly.

Meredith rolled her eyes. Grace snorted. "Honestly? Do you really need me to say it? Come on, let's not embarrass him," she said with a smile, glancing at Castiel with a raised eyebrow. Castiel fought off the blush he felt trying to sneak its way into his cheeks. He didn't want to satisfy her. Picking up his pencil, he doodled mindlessly in the margin of his notebook paper, trying to ignore his pounding heart.

Dean tensed beside Castiel, but he recovered quickly, leaning forward on his desk as he gave a smile that would have any girl swooning. "Sweetheart, if you think that I'd prefer your company over his then you've got some seriously messed up ideas goin' on in that pretty little head of yours," Dean replied calmly, keeping his smile all the while. Grace's jaw dropped and when she didn't respond, Dean raised an eyebrow, pointing down to their group paper where the blond girl was writing her name- pencil frozen in place. "You done with that?" he asked, taking the paper and walking over to Mrs. Madison's desk where he turned it in.

The two girls were still bug-eyed when Dean came back and nudged at Castiel's shoulder, telling him that they could move their desks back, now. Castiel nodded, getting up on wobbly legs as he began to drag his desk back to its proper place.

Dean gave the two girls another charming smile. "Nice working with you, ladies," he called out as he picked up his own desk, placing it back in its spot next to Castiel's.

Castiel was sitting at his desk, feeling dread sink its way into his stomach. Despite their complete and utter rudeness, Grace and Meredith were right.

Alastair  _had_ been nice to Dean. He had basically given him the VIP spot in his clique. Dean had a free pass guaranteeing smooth sailing throughout his time at Lasserton High. He could have been with pretty girls and popular guys and he could have gone to parties and had fun instead of hanging out with Castiel working on a project about Lord Alfred Tennyson on Friday nights. He could be living the perfect high school life.

Why did he give up all that for Castiel?

Why did he sacrifice anything for him?

Castiel wasn't worth it.

"Cas?" Dean's voice inquired, cutting Castiel off from his thoughts. Castiel glanced at Dean, and the green-eyed boy gave him a soft smile. "You alright?" he asked.

Castiel nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Mrs. Madison began speaking to the class (bless her soul), so Dean didn't try and push an answer out of his friend. When class was over, Dean tried to cheer up Castiel as he walked him to his next class, but the dark-haired boy was too focused on Grace's words to pay any attention to the conversations Dean would strike up.

Finally, when they reached the door to Castiel's classroom, Dean grabbed his arm before he could go inside.

"Cas, wait," Dean stopped him, pulling him close and away from the attention of the students filing into the classroom. "Hey, look at me," Dean ordered, meeting Castiel's eyes. "You don't believe what Grace said, right?" he asked, eyebrows drawn together and gaze intense.

Castiel opened his mouth, about to speak. But he had no idea what to say. He licked his lips and looked down before he looked back up, again. "She makes a good point, Dean," Castiel admitted.

Dean raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "It's _complete_ _bull_. She has no idea what she's-"

The warning bell rang, and Dean's hand loosened on Castiel's arm.

"You need to get to class," Castiel interrupted, giving Dean a forced smile. "I'll see you later, okay?" he reassured. Dean seemed to relax at that, and he nodded.

"Alright. I'll meet up with you here," he told him before heading off.

And Castiel went into his classroom, forcing himself not to let his anxiety climb up his throat and make its way out as screams.

* * *

When Dean met up with Castiel after class, their previous discussion was mostly forgotten. Castiel put on a happy attitude, forcing himself not to ruin Dean's day with his frantic thoughts. Dean seemed hesitant and awkward around his friend, but he tried to act happy, too, deciding to put away the whole speech he had planned to the back of his mind for later use.

Charlie and Jo basically took Castiel away from Dean for the duration of lunch, Jo talking animatedly about how Ellen was already planning Castiel's work hours and Charlie telling Castiel that her friend Gilda said she could cut his hair on Saturday before he started work. Their enthusiastic mood lightened up Castiel from his bad day, and before Dean knew it the teen was back to his normal self.

That had brought a pang of jealousy within Dean. How come when he tried to distract Castiel and make him happy it never went through? But then when Charlie and Jo did it worked like a charm? Dean wished he had that capability, but then again he had never been the comforting sort.

Cas and Dean talked about music as they ran during gym, Castiel asking Dean what albums he owned. Dean found the question to be odd, and he told his friend that he only owned a mixed array of cassette tapes- no physical records or albums. That seemed to make Castiel smile, and the dark-haired teen wouldn't tell Dean why even through his toughest persistence.

When they said their goodbyes after gym, Dean told Cas to text him when he was done at Jo's house. Castiel had nodded with a smile, and they headed off to their respective classes.

* * *

"Sorry about the crappy bus," Jo apologized as they squeezed into a seat, Castiel sitting on the outer part while Jo sat next to the window.

Castiel smiled. "It's no problem," he insisted. "It's much better than my bus," he observed. None of the people that bullied Castiel were on Jo's bus. He almost wished that his own bus was like this, but that was before he remembered that if it was he wouldn't get to see Dean every morning and afternoon. His thoughts about his bus quickly withered away after that, and Jo talked animatedly about the diner.

"It's located actually not too far from the school," Jo explained. "It's in that little plaza where all those frozen yogurt shops and bakeries are," she told him. "It's called the Harvelle Diner. My mom and dad both owned it, and when my dad passed away my mom continued to run it. I'm basically meant to keep it running when I'm older, too," Jo said with a nose wrinkle. "Family businesses, I guess. But, anyways, my mom and some of the older workers do the cooking. Ash, Meg, a couple other people and I do the waiting- Meg doesn't go to our school, she goes to Free State over by Overland Drive. She's really sweet, you'll like her," Jo explained. "So I basically work at the diner every day- I just take breaks when my mom tells me it isn't too busy. Ash works Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays through Saturdays. Meg works Fridays through Sundays, and sometimes on Tuesdays- it normally depends on the rush of customers and whether or not I can make it," Jo explained.

Castiel nodded, taking in all this information with wide eyes. It sounded as though they worked a lot of days, and Castiel was glad that he'd be kept extra busy. He pondered through Dean's workdays in his head, wondering if he could work on those days as well so that they'd have the same free days.

When they pulled up to Jo's neighborhood the two friends walked to her house, chatting on the way there. Jo unlocked the front door and they were greeted with the scent of cooking meat.

Castiel's stomach automatically clenched in need for food, and when he and Jo walked in Ellen called for them to come to the kitchen.

They left their backpacks by the front door and made their way to Ellen. She smiled brightly at the two when they approached her. Ellen was at the stove flipping meat patties, a bag of hamburger buns sitting by the stove along with some vegetables that waited to be cut.

"Hey, kids," she greeted. "You two think you can handle cutting those and settin' up the table?" she asked as she gestured her spatula towards the veggies. "I meant to have it all done before ya'll came home, but-" she shrugged.

Castiel smiled. "I can do it," he offered, grabbing a cutting board and knife from where Ellen told him it was. Jo worked on preparing the table while Castiel cut up onions, tomatoes, and lettuce- trying to do it in the expert way Dean had. He was catching on, and in a couple of minutes he had a stack of fresh vegetables ready for the dinner table.

Pretty soon everything was prepared, and Castiel was having dinner with the Harvelle family. They all talked about school and plans for the break- Castiel had told Ellen he was staying home for winter break, something that pleased her.

"Well, then, that means you can work more at the diner," Ellen countered with a smile. Castiel smiled, nodding and agreeing. Then they began to discuss his working hours. "So I could use you any day of the week," Ellen began. "Wednesdays would be best," she added. "It's always busy on Wednesdays and usually it's just Ash and Amy workin' then. Jo has her classes at the karate center on Wednesdays," Ellen explained.

Castiel raised an eyebrow at the information, looking at his friend. "I didn't know you do karate," Castiel stated, rather shocked with himself. How had he not noticed that? He had seen Jo wrestle down Dean one Saturday night, pinning him to the ground in expertise.

Jo blushed- something she did not often do- and she shrugged, smiling slightly. "I teach some classes on Wednesdays," Jo explained. "I've already mastered a black belt… twice," Jo explained. "The first one was when I was like, five. So it doesn't count. When I finished karate I decided to teach some self defense classes at the center I used to go to," the blond girl told Castiel with a smile. "They're free- you should come," she offered.

Castiel smiled. "Yeah-sure, as long as you do not attempt to pin me to the ground in public," Castiel said with a knowing smirk, referring to Jo nonchalantly flipping Dean onto the ground and having him call uncle. Jo snorted, holding back laughter.

Ellen raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "Anyways," she began. "What do you think, Cas?" she asked. "What days work best for you?"

Castiel thought back to Dean's schedule. If he could work on the same days as Dean then the days they have off could be the same and they wouldn't have to see that much less of each other. "I could work Wednesdays through Saturdays," Castiel offered. He noticed Jo lift her head up and look at Castiel curiously- if not with a bit of amusement on her expression. "And, of course, any other days you'd need my assistance. I'm not very busy after school," Castiel explained quickly, trying to look anywhere but at Jo.

Ellen smiled. "Wednesdays through Saturdays it is, then. And I'm gonna be expecting you full time during the break," Ellen said, pointing a finger at Castiel. "You can start this Saturday at twelve," she told him with a smile.

Castiel returned the smile, his face bright. "I'll be ready."

* * *

When it was eight, Dean picked up Castiel from Ellen's. They talked about Dean's first day on the drive back to Cas's house. Dean had been called by Rufus, who asked him to come in last minute since one of his workers called in sick for their shift. Dean had texted Castiel letting him know, and Ellen was more than happy to keep Castiel for the afternoon. Jo and Cas worked on their homework after dinner- Jo helping Cas study for his trig test.

Dean talked about how much work he had to do on repairing this old, completely beaten down '93 Volvo. He explained that a man had brought it in asking if the shop could get it in perfect condition before Christmas. It was apparently a present for the man's daughter. Of course, Dean had said he'd get it done. But he expressed his negative thoughts about the whole thing to Castiel, telling him that he wasn't sure he'd finish it on time. He explained how long it would take, and Castiel had encouraged Dean, telling him he'd probably have it done in no time- saying that if anyone were capable of the job it would be Dean. That statement had warmed up Dean slightly, but he just rolled his eyes and said "whatever". In all honesty, though, Dean felt a whole lot more confident.

Dean had Cas tell him about all that went down at Ellen's, and Castiel told Dean he'd be starting on Saturday, and that Jo would give him his work uniform on Saturday morning at her house. Dean offered to take Cas there and be his 'moral support' for his first day, and that seemed to excite the dark-haired teenager. Castiel had agreed, saying he'd really like having Dean there. So they talked more about Castiel's new found schedule, and when Castiel told Dean his work hours he could've sworn his heart stopped.

Had Castiel planned to have the same work hours as Dean?

Did he do it so they could have time to hang out?

Had he already memorized Dean's working schedule?

No. No, of course not. Ellen had given him those work hours- it had nothing to do with Dean. It was just a crazy coincidence. Right?

God- Dean was not doing this, again. He had promised himself while he was at the auto shop that he'd try and get over Cas- that he'd try to clear his mind of him. Dean had texted John telling him about his job, and he had been  _so proud_ of Dean. He had called him right away, talking about how grown up his son was and about how he was becoming a great young man.

Dean's talk with his father was what had gotten him back on track- flirting with a girl that had stopped by the shop. He had gotten her number, and they were going to go on a date on Sunday. Dean Winchester was back on a roll, and nothing was going to throw him off of his routine, now.

Not even those goddamn pair of big blue eyes and that fucking button up.


	16. Can I Stay?

Castiel had been acting strange for the rest of the week.

Dean noticed it- those preoccupied looks on Cas's face when he thought Dean wasn't looking, the completely "i'm-so-not-here" expressions that engulfed his face during class, the way he was running slower during gym and not even paying attention when Dean would kick a soccer ball towards him. Castiel had even begun to talk to Dean less, answering him with "mhms" and other grunts of acknowledgement. At first, Dean had thought he had done something wrong. But then he realized he was overreacting and that there was nothing Castiel could be mad at him about.

He was just… not here.

To put it simply, that was.

Sure, he was still doing homework and attending lunch and attempting to listen politely to conversations around him, but he was doing it all almost robotically.

On Wednesday, he almost completely ignored Dean and the others.

On Thursday, he had run into Dean by accident a couple of times, murmuring apologies and then continuing on with his mindless routine as he pretended to listen to things Dean would tell him.

Dean knew he wasn't paying attention, because when he noticed that glazed over look consume Castiel's face for the umpteenth time while Dean talked, he'd change his topic of conversation from Tennyson to an alien abduction he went through, where he proceeded to be poked and prodded in mind-scarring ways. Castiel hadn't reacted to the ridiculous story, and that's when Dean knew things were bad.

He didn't try and force Castiel to tell him anything, though. Later on when the group had expressed their concern, he told them not to get involved, either. They just needed to give Cas some time, and when he wanted to open up, he'd open up.

And that's what he did on Friday.

As Cas and Dean were leaving the classroom, Mrs. Madison had stopped the two, asking Castiel to come to her desk for a moment. Dean had hung around by the door as he waited close by- keeping an eye on his friend as he made his way to their teacher's desk. He was surprised Cas had even heard the literature teacher, but he guessed that Castiel was probably waiting for her to call him over. His shoulders had been particularly tense throughout class that day, and his gaze kept flicking over to the teacher in nervous anticipation.

Not that Dean was watching him, or anything.

Mrs. Madison was talking in a hushed whisper, and Dean had to strain his ears to pick up on her words. He didn't mean to be nosy, but, hell, it had been a couple of days since Castiel has fucking talked to him, and Dean was worried.

"I visited your mother this morning, Castiel," Mrs. Madison began, "I… I think it's time you pay her a visit, as well," she whispered, hesitantly.

Castiel was stiff in front of his teacher, his shoulders tense and his head bowed. "You know I can't do that. I just can't," he told her, looking up into her eyes knowingly.

They stared at each other for a while, and Mrs. Madison looked over at Dean, catching him watching them.

His heart skipping a beat, Dean looked away quickly, a blush burning at his cheeks.

Her next words were quieter, almost nonexistent. Dean only caught the last few words- the mumbled forms "be safe." Castiel's gruff voice gave an indecipherable response.

Before he knew it, Castiel was at his side again. Dean looked at his friend, their eyes meeting.

"Let's go," Castiel murmured, walking out of the classroom and not looking to see if Dean followed.

Dean looked over at his teacher, and she met his gaze. She was standing up facing him, now, and she wore a familiar expression. It was much like when she asked Dean to take care of Cas all those weeks ago. Dean nodded in understanding, and he went off to follow his friend.

* * *

When Dean met up with Castiel after third period, Castiel had looked directly into Dean's eyes, stopping them from their walk to the lunchroom.

"Do you think we could eat outside, Dean?" Castiel asked monotonously, his voice hollow.

Dean tilted his head in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. He was shocked at the odd request, and at the fact that Castiel had uttered a sentence to him. He nodded, nonetheless. "Uh- yeah, sure. Let's go grab the others-"

"No," Castiel interrupted, making Dean freeze in his movements. "Just us," he specified, making Dean's heart pound in his chest.

Swallowing, Dean nodded, again. "Okay," he responded.

They made their way outside, and Dean shot Jo a quick text telling her they would not be able to make it to lunch today, and that he'd see her later. He turned off his phone after that so it wouldn't go off, and he tried to ignore the frantic thoughts that flitted through his mind as they walked to the bleachers of the track and field. Castiel was silent, and Dean trailed behind him just as quietly.

What if Castiel was mad at him? What if he told him he didn't want to be friends? What if this had something to do with his mother and Dean wouldn't know what to say and then Castiel would realize Dean's an awful friend? What if Castiel had bad news?

The suspense was killing him, and it took everything in Dean's willpower not to burst and ask Castiel what was up.

They sat down on the bleachers side-by-side, a respectable foot of space between them. It was silent for a few minutes, and Dean fought the urge to eat his lunch. He had been working late last night and skipped dinner, and he had slept in and missed breakfast, as well. His stomach clenched and he fought off its urge to growl.

When Castiel finally spoke, his voice seemed almost back to normal. Except it was broken, now- emotion returning to it.

"Today is the anniversary of my mother's death," Castiel murmured loud enough for Dean to hear, but still hushed. Dean froze in his spot, locking his gaze on his friend.

Dean was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry," he responded, not sure what else to say.

Castiel smiled bitterly at the ground, averting his gaze back in front of him. He never met Dean's eyes, practically ignoring them. "I know I should feel bad. I know I should be mourning and crying and feeling like complete crap. But…" Castiel shrugged, his eyes sad as his smile fell. "I don't, Dean." He looked at his friend, now, eyes meeting with a mix of blue-green electricity that hummed through their strong gaze. "I don't feel sad. Not as much as I used to," Castiel told him. "I just… I want to be  _sad_ ," Castiel admitted, looking back at the ground, the break in their gaze making Dean take let out the breath he realized he'd been holding. "I'm just waiting for this empty feeling to break and flood with this breakdown that has been looming over my head and… I need it. It's not natural for me to be this happy for this long," Castiel tried to explain. "I'm not used to it, and it just isn't what's supposed to happen to me. I need to be upset- I need something to go badly for me or I think I'll go insane," Castiel spoke faster, now, hands balled into fists as they rested on his knees. "I don't want everything to go smoothly. It hasn't for so long that it just feels like everything going on right now is too good to be true. I'm waiting for the backlash and it's driving me crazy and I feel anxious every second and I overthink things and I tried to hang onto what Grace said the other day and I tried to repeat her words in my mind over and over and over and over and I'm trying to dwell over that and call it my bump in the road but it's  _not_ and I need more and now I'm not even sad on the anniversary of my mother's death and-  _Dean I need something to hurt me,_ " Castiel rambled, his voice hitching and his shoulders tensing with the inevitable build up of his anxiety and stress. Dean just stared at his friend with wide eyes, speechless. Castiel didn't continue, so Dean took it as his cue to speak.

"Cas," he uttered after a moment, his breathing unsteady. He took a deep breath and looked away for a few seconds, trying to gather together what he wanted to say. Dean looked back at his friend, now, and spoke. "Things can change," Dean told him, watching as his friend's mouth tightened, his blue eyes looking at the ground. "Life isn't ever gonna stay the same. You gotta just go with it and let go of those nagging feelings. If life is giving you a break, then you know damn well that you deserve it. Maybe the suffering is done with and maybe all you need to do now is get used to it," Dean suggested. "At least, maybe for now. You need to stop telling yourself that you don't deserve this happiness and instead you need to embrace it. Hell, I know it's hard. I know what it's like just waiting for the bad things, but... Cas, if you spend all your life waiting for the fallout you'll never be able to truly enjoy the great things you've got going on. And, to be completely honest, when you look back you're going to wish you had."

Castiel was eerily silent, gazing at the floor and refusing to meet Dean's eyes.

"I can't," he whispered weakly, hands shaking on his knees as he unclenched them, now. "I can't change who I am. I know that, no matter what, everything I have will leave. I know that because I don't deserve it. I never get to keep any of the things- any of the  _people_ \- that I love. They're all going to be taken away from me and soon they'll all leave and then I'll be alone again and then what?" Castiel asked, gazing frantically into Dean's eyes, now. "I mean, I know everything is going fine, right now. But instead of enjoying it I can't stop thinking about how long it'll be until it's all gone," Castiel admitted, looking so vulnerable and so truly scared that Dean felt his heart break.

So he said the only thing he was sure about.

"I ain't going anywhere," he assured his friend. "And I swear to you that's something you can count on."

Castiel's eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open slightly. He recovered, though, and his gaze turned soft- still fixed onto his friend's face. Cold wind brushed past the two, the sound of a distant car hazily filling the air. It was bitterly cold outside, the sky painted with a sickening wash of grey and white. Winter had consumed all of Lawrence, bathing it in its deathly blanket. But, with all the ice of the wintertime, Castiel's blue eyes brought summer within Dean- warming him and comforting him even with the situation they were currently in. Eventually, Castiel smiled sadly.

"Thank you, Dean."

And Dean had smiled back, scooching close and slinging an arm around his friend's shoulders. Castiel's warmth created a feeling of summer and drove away the bitterness of the air- melting it into nonexistence and replacing it with life.

"No problem," he murmured back.

* * *

When school ended, Dean made sure to seek out Cas instead of waiting for him at the Impala. He had been worried since their unnerving conversation during lunch, and he wanted to make sure he got Castiel home from school, safely. After scavenging the halls, he found Castiel walking to the parking lot with Jo and took him off her hands, giving the blond a smile and telling her they'd see her tomorrow.

Jo had bid them farewell, telling Dean in a low whisper to text him with updates on Cas. Dean had promised he would, and he took his friend to the Impala, keeping a hand on his back as he led him through the hustle of students in the hallway.

Even after their talk, Castiel seemed even more robotic than before. He was basically a dead body being dragged around by a machine, at this point. Castiel seemed pale, and the bags under his eyes were prominent. Dean wondered to himself when the last time Castiel ate was- or even slept, for that matter. The teen was bumping into people around him, stumbling around clumsily as Dean directed him to the parking lot.

When they got in the car and drove to Sammy's school, Castiel spoke up.

"Dean," he inquired, grabbing the blond boy's attention right away and slightly jolting him with shock.

"Yeah?" he asked, glancing at his friend.

Castiel was silent for a moment. "I do not want to go to my house," he admitted- his voice sounding small and scared. "Can I stay?" he asked, referring to Dean's home.

Dean nodded fast, pulling into Sammy's school. "Yeah- of course, man. Don't worry about it. Bobby's gone so you've got the guest room and everything," Dean reassured.

Castiel nodded, murmuring a thank-you. When Sammy got into the car, the three drove home. Dean had work, so when Castiel had walked into the house he stopped Sammy and talked to him, checking to make sure Castiel wasn't listening, first.

"Sam, I need you to keep an eye on Cas, alright?" he instructed, hand on his brother's shoulder.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed. "Why? Is something wrong? Is he okay?" Sam asked suddenly, looking into the house where Castiel was sitting in the living room.

Dean pressed his lips together, licking them before he spoke. "He's just a little off- I just want you to watch him until I'm back, okay?"

Sam nodded, not asking any further questions. "Okay."

"Alright. I'll be home, soon. You know the rules. Keep the door locked-"

"I know, I know. I'm not five, Dean. I know how to take care of myself," Sam interrupted with a roll of his eyes. "Just get out of here or you'll be late. C'mon," he urged.

"Thanks, Sam," Dean murmured with a smile, tossing his backpack into the house and then calling after Cas. "I'm headin' to work, Cas," he told his friend. "I'll be back around eleven, okay?"

Castiel looked over at his friend, giving him a forced smile and nodding. "Alright," he responded.

So after giving Sam a pat on the back, Dean eased himself back out of the house, rushing to work and munching on his uneaten lunch on the drive there.

* * *

It was only seven o'clock, and Dean was already frantic. He checked his watch every ten minutes, hurrying to get home. It got to the point where he couldn't even focus on the Volvo, working slowly at it much to Rufus's distaste. When he realized what he was doing, though, Dean slapped some sense into himself and tried to concentrate. The last thing he needed was to get fired on his fourth day.

So Dean kept his mind busy, getting rid of the urge to check his phone as he focused on the task at hand. Sooner than he expected, night had come and everyone was leaving. Rufus left the keys for Dean to lock up at eleven, and Dean fought off the temptation to leave earlier than that.

Pretty soon, he was heading back home, locking up and texting Sam to check up on things. Sam had texted back right away, telling Dean that something was really wrong with Cas and that he needed to get home, quick.

His heart skipping a beat, Dean sent Sam a quick text, telling him he was on his way. Dean made it to his car quickly, practically sprinting to it and the next thing he knew he had the Impala speeding through empty streets to get home as soon as possible.

He didn't even lock his car as he raced to the front door of his house, unlocking it and opening it in record time. Sam was sitting at the dining table, watching the living room. He looked relieved when he saw his brother.

"What's wrong with Cas?" Sam asked in a whisper, his eyes bewildered. "He hasn't moved from that spot. I can't even talk to him- he barely answers," Sam told him. "I tried to get him to eat something but he won't," Sam explained.

Dean bit his lip and nodded. "I'll take care of it, Sammy. Go to bed, I need to talk to him," Dean told his little brother.

With a worried crease of his eyebrow, Sam let out a stubborn huff of breath and nodded. He headed off to his room, leaving behind Dean to freak out in the kitchen.

The blond teen took deep breaths, trying to prepare himself for what he might face in just a couple of moments. Castiel hadn't been himself- he could do or say anything right now. Dean knew things were really bad, counting on the fact that Cas had asked if he could stay the night. Which meant he didn't want to go home. It was normally Dean who invited Cas over, and it was Castiel who insisted he was a burden and who would do freaking chores or tutor Sam or help Dean with his homework when he was here. Castiel never broke down like this- he never showed anything that was bothering him to anybody- especially not to Sam. Castiel just  _didn't_ let people see his emotions _._  And now he was letting it all out and it was up to Dean to help him.

Hell, that was a fucking scary responsibility.

So Dean walked into the living room, taking a deep breath before he sat next to Castiel on the couch. The dark-haired teen had his zombie-like facial expression- blue eyes dull and face pale. He looked like he was deep in thought. Dean swallowed back the lump in his throat before he spoke.

"You alright, Cas?" he asked, hesitantly. Castiel didn't respond. Working his lower lip between his teeth, Dean reached out a hand to Cas, about to jostle his shoulder and repeat his question before Castiel spoke.

"Make it stop," he murmured, his voice so broken and weak Dean didn't recognize it.

Dean's eyes widened. "What? Make what stop?" he asked, hanging onto any little bit of words Castiel spoke.

Castiel clutched onto his head, now, shaking it back and forth as he whimpered. "The  _voices_ ," he hissed. "Just tell them to stop! Tell them they're wrong- it's not my fault," Castiel breathed out, getting up from the couch as he looked at Dean for the first time. His eyes suddenly filled with realization, and they widened at the sight of his friend. "No- no I can't be here, I have to go," Castiel suddenly spoke fast, backing up. "I'm sorry- I didn't," Castiel began, but his voice broke off and he shook his head, making his way to the door before Dean got up and grasped his arm, stopping him.

"Cas! Cas,  _stop,_ " Dean ordered, pulling Cas towards him and holding both his arms. "Just tell me what's wrong," Dean spoke softer this time, but with hidden force lacing his words.

Castiel shook his head, bowing it and squeezing his eyes shut. "Dean,  _please_ ," he begged. "You don't want to see this- what's about to happen. I'll be okay, I-I just need to go home and work it out. Just, please, let me go," Castiel pleaded, refusing to meet Dean's eyes, his body starting to shake and his breathing erratic.

Dean kept his grip. "No," he responded, sitting them down. "Whatever the hell you've got bugging you, you've got to tell me," Dean spoke. "That's a requirement when you've got friends, Cas. No more of this 'taking things on your own' crap. Now  _talk to me_ ," Dean ordered. He knew he'd have to be assertive when it came to Cas, or else their friendship would always be in this stage- constantly balancing between secrecy and the need to reach out to one another.

Castiel looked up at Dean, his shoulders hunched and his hands shaking and his eyes flickering frantically over Dean's face- as if he were searching for any sign of Dean betraying him. He looked back down, clenching his hands to stop them from shaking. "It's my fault," he choked out, taking a deep breath to hold back a sob. "It's my fault she's dead."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed, his heart cold in his chest. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "How could it be your fault?"

Castiel shook his head again, tears streaming down his face, now, swallowing harshly. "I didn't mean for it to happen- I didn't know," he defended himself.

Dean put a hand on Castiel's shoulder, urging the teen to look at him. Castiel looked up, his blue eyes pained and confused and scared. "Tell me what happened, Cas," Dean spoke calmer, now. "It's okay, just tell me what happened."

Castiel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "A storm- it was storming and it was really bad and I got scared," Castiel began. "I-I asked my mom to come pick me up- I was at my church- I- and I was safe and she told me I'd be alright but I still asked," Castiel stuttered, his voice tight- on the brink of breaking down. "I still asked her to get me because I'm scared of storms and I just wanted her there and I just wanted to feel safe and I was  _scared_ ," Castiel tried to explain. "I didn't  _know-_  I swear I didn't know- I'm sorry,  _I'm sorry, I'm sorry_ ," Castiel began crying again, holding onto his head as sobs racked out from him, shaking his shoulders.

Dean was shocked- his eyes wide. He knew what was happening- it was just like when he had found Castiel in the forest. He was going through a panic attack- he was going over the edge and Dean needed to try and stop him before he got worse. " _Cas_ ," Dean began, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder as he tried to gain his attention. "Cas, it's okay. It's okay, it's not your fault," Dean reassured. "C'mon, Cas. Everything's okay. Keep going, I've got you. You're safe," Dean promised him. He knew that if Castiel didn't tell Dean everything that he'd continue to blame himself for it- even if it was not Castiel's fault at all. He needed someone to share this burden- it was too much for him to handle on his own.

He needed Dean to listen now more than ever.

Dean felt Castiel's shaking calm gradually under his hand, and he felt the rise and fall of Castiel's back as he took another deep, shaky breath. "T-the car crash," he explained, loosening his hands on his head. "She got into a crash- she," Castiel's voice broke, and he squeezed his eyes shut. "They couldn't save her- couldn't save either of them. It's all my fault," Castiel whimpered, tears sliding down his cheeks as his breathing became laborious, escaping from his mouth with sobs.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "Either of them? Cas, what are you-"

"Azazel," Castiel spoke up. "Alastair's brother- they crashed into each other and they both died and it's all my fault," Castiel explained in a frantic rush. "It's my fault they're dead, Dean. And-  _God_ \- I didn't want you to know! I wanted to keep it secret because if you and Jo and Charlie and- and  _fuck_ , I'm going to lose you all and I don't deserve you guys and I'm  _so, so sorry_ ," Castiel was breathing erratically, his body shaking even more. Dean tightened his now-loose grip, squeezing Cas's shoulder reassuringly.

"Cas-  _breathe_ ," he ordered, putting a hand on Castiel's cheek to lift his face up when he didn't listen. "Breathe, Cas," Dean commanded, green eyes staring intensely into blue, scared ones.

When Castiel obeyed, taking shuddering, deep breaths that left him coughing, Dean found that he was unconsciously rubbing his thumb along Castiel's cheekbone as he cupped the side of his face. He almost stopped in his actions, but he didn't when he realized it was calming his friend.

"It's not your fault," Dean found himself murmuring, his other hand straying to Castiel's leg, placing itself firmly there- comforting and supportive. "It's not your fault, okay?" Dean told him, gazing fiercely into the teen's eyes. "There's no way you could've known. There's no fucking way you could have caused that to happen. It's  _not_ your fault. It was never your fault."

To Dean's complete shock, Castiel shook his head, pulling his face away from Dean's hand. "It  _was_ ," Castiel argued, sounding completely broken. "Everyone knows it was,  _everyone tells me it was_ ," Castiel whimpered. "Alastair, my father, they all told me it was my fault- and it  _was_ ," Castiel told his friend, tears filling his eyes, again. "I was the one that called her- I told her to go out in that storm and  _Dean_ , if it weren't for me she'd be alive and happy and my father would be happy and  _he wouldn't hate me._ Everything would be the way it was supposed to be an-and my family would be happy and-" Castiel broke off, his voice cracking before he hunched over again, clutching at his abdomen as he held back sobs in his tightened throat, clenched teeth grinding together to keep in the aching cries. " _I just want her back,_ " Castiel managed to squeak, breaking down right then and there, letting the sobs take control as they spasmed Castiel's muscles- tossing him through painful shakes and shudders. "I want everything to be  _normal._ I want A-Anna and Gabriel to come back home and I want my dad to love me and I want to  _like_ coming home from school and  _Dean_ , it's all my fault, I screwed everything up and I screwed up my life and I screwed up my family's life and I screwed up Alastair's family's life and  _oh my god,_ " Castiel rambled before he sobbed, again, his efforts to hold back his cries useless as they racked out of him, spending his body with the force of their tears.

Dean didn't know what to do. He was sitting there, frozen, his hand still placed on Castiel's leg although it was a lot less comforting, now- stiff and cold on Castiel's thigh.

Before Dean could manage to do anything, Castiel was speaking again.

"I almost allowed myself to be happy," Castiel squeaked, his eyes reddened and his face wet with tears. "I almost thought that I could go through this year without being sad on this day- now that I have friends and now that things were going a- a little better. Dean,  _I am the reason she died._ How could I  _do that?_ How could I go pretending everything's okay and allowing myself to be happy when my mother is dead because of me? It's  _all my fault._ I don't deserve to be happy- I  _don't deserve to be breathing_ ," Castiel cried. "She should be alive- I should be dead,  _I shouldn't be here-_ "

"Don't say that," Dean cut him off, hand squeezing on Castiel's leg as the other one gripped his arm. Dean's heart was pounding at the words Castiel had spoken. He couldn't believe what he had heard- he wanted to pretend Castiel hadn't uttered it. "Don't you dare say that," Dean gasped out, astounded.

Castiel was searching his friend's eyes wildly, blue orbs flickering over Dean's face. Tears kept pouring out of the pools of his eyes when he murmured, "But why am I alive?"

Dean's jaw had dropped at that, and as he tried to answer, he found that he was too shocked with the honest confusion of that question to come up with anything. So, instead, he gathered himself together and put his arms around his friend, dragging him in close for an awkward hug that was all oddly tangled limbs and intense need. Dean held him tight, propping his chin on his friend's shoulder as Castiel relaxed and buried his damp face into Dean's neck, hiccuping with broken sobs.

"I don't know why this all happened to you, Cas," Dean admitted, truthfully. "Hell, it's terrible and I wish it didn't have to be like this. But  _don't you dare_ say that you wish you were dead. Fuck you, Cas, you fucking selfish bastard. Don't you  _ever_ fucking say that again," Dean murmured gruffly, pulling his friend in closer as he clenched onto him.

"I'm sorry," Castiel whispered into Dean' neck- his breath wet with tears and skin hot with fever from his exertion.

"Don't. Just- don't," Dean murmured, starting to rub slow circles in between Castiel's shoulder blades. "Enough with the apologies. It's not your fault. That's all bullshit, okay? What happened was awful, but it's  _in no way at all_ your fault," Dean reassured him, squeezing tighter as he let one hand stray up to grasp onto the back of Castiel's head- clenching his hair. His other hand continued rubbing circles as he soothed Castiel- coaxing him out of his sobs. "You're here for a reason, Cas," Dean whispered after a long silence, pulling his friend closer. "I swear to God- if I hear you say anything like that again I will kick your ass," Dean threatened, pulling away from his friend and grasping onto his shoulders as he looked into Castiel's eyes. "Your father told you it's your fault?" he asked, eyes stone cold and voice laced with venom.

Castiel nodded weakly- hesitantly. "Y-yes. B-but he's right? He  _is_ right. If it weren't for me-"

"Don't listen to him," Dean cut off with a hiss. "Don't listen to any of the crap that comes flying out of his mouth. It is  _not_ your fault. Hell, you were a little kid. You were a fucking kid and he shouldn't have put you through all of that. He should have helped you through it and let you know that you'd all get past this and-  _damnit, Cas,_ if anyone is to blame here then it's  _him._ What kind of a shit father accuses his son of something like that? For fuck's sake- have you believed him all this time?" Dean asked, eyes pained as he searched his friend's face.

Castiel was shaking- his mouth slightly agape. He nodded slightly, his eyes on Dean's. "Yes," he whispered. "Dean- it's not his fault," Castiel defended when Dean's green eyes grew steely once more. "He was only-"

"He was being a crap father. You should have never have gone through that," Dean told him- voice shaking with anger. "Hell, it fucking sucks to lose a mom. It sucks ass because suddenly it's like you're ten years older and everything is taken away from you and, for fuck's sake, your dad was supposed to help you through that but instead he chose to blame you for something that wasn't your fault. Do you know how messed up that is?" Dean asked, his voice rising. "When I lost my mom, my father helped me through it. I had Sam and my Dad and Bobby whenever he stopped by and it still didn't seem like enough. I still missed her and I blamed myself for the longest time before-" Dean broke off- his jaw clenching as he let go of Castiel's shoulders and ran a shaking hand through his hair. "That's not the point. Cas, you need to understand that this isn't your fault. Hell, I don't know what it'll fucking take to get you to understand that but I won't stop until you do. No more of this. No more blaming yourself and no more being sad and no more-" Dean broke off, again, eyes glassy. " _Shit_ , don't ever fucking say that you wished you were dead. That's the stupidest, most fucking selfish thing I have ever heard a person say and I don't want to hear any of it-  _got it?_ " Dean asked, eyes intense.

Castiel swallowed, nodding- eyes wide. The teen had stopped crying- his eyes swollen and face tear-streaked. Dean suddenly got up, offering Cas a hand- which he took tentatively. When Castiel was on his wobbly feet, Dean put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Let's go to bed. You need sleep- you have to wake up early," Dean pointed out- his voice sounding borderline of exhausted.

Castiel nodded again, and let Dean lead him through the halls to his room. Castiel seemed to freeze when they entered Dean's room- his face slightly startled and his body rigid when he searched for the mattress on the floor. "De-"

But Dean was piling sleeping clothes into Castiel's arms. "Change into those," he ordered. "I've got an extra toothbrush- the red one under the sink. It's still in the wrapper, you can use that," Dean instructed as he stripped off his jacket and henley, pulling on a worn out Rolling Stones tee. Castiel eyes lingered on Dean as he stripped down, making the blond teen fight off a blush as he realized what he was doing, tucking down his old shirt self consciously.

"Dean," Castiel tried, again.

Dean turned around to face him, and suddenly grew red- embarrassed. "Ah- not to be weird or anything, but I'd rather you not be left alone tonight. You've kinda got me uneasy. Just- just stay where I can see ya, okay?" Dean asked, his voice pleading. Castiel licked his reddened lips, nodding as he looked at the floor.

"Thank you," Castiel murmured, and Dean managed to crack a smile.

"No problem. C'mon, get dressed," he urged his friend, waving towards the bathroom in the hallway. Castiel nodded, heading off to the bathroom. When he came back he looked somewhat cleaner- his nose less red and dribbly and his face washed, although his eyes were still swollen. Dean tried not to ogle at the sight of Castiel in Dean's clothes- his white long-sleeve hanging loosely on Castiel's frame- the neck of it exposing collarbone and his plaid pj pants drooping dangerously low on Castiel's hips, the double-knotted tie doing nothing to keep them up properly. The thought of Dean's pants on Castiel shouldn't have appealed to Dean as much as it did, and he averted his eyes as he coughed awkwardly. Now was  _definitely_ not the time. "Well, uh, get in bed, and stuff. I'm gonna brush my teeth," Dean told him gruffly as he padded off to the bathroom, taking a minute to get in some deep breaths and splash his face with water. Castiel needed him, tonight, Dean reminded himself as he furiously brushed his teeth. Now was no fucking moment to take advantage of him like this and pronounce his fucking giant gay attraction.

Fuck, now was  _so_  not the time.

So Dean rinsed his mouth, spitting out water and trying to calm the heat in his stomach that swirled around at the thought of sleeping next to Castiel. Dean spent a good four minutes just hanging around in the bathroom as he tried to calm himself from the unexpected events of the past hour. Eventually, Dean decided to stop being a wimp, and walked out of the bathroom as he made his way to his room. Castiel was on his side on the very edge of the bed, taking up as little space as possible.

Licking his lips, Dean turned off the lights, climbing over Cas to his side of the bed, lying awkwardly on his back and feeling the nagging sense that Castiel was too far away and that the bed suddenly seemed five fucking miles long.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes when his friend looked over at him. "I'm not gonna bite you, come here," he told him, beckoning him closer with a wave of his hand. Castiel gawked for a moment, but nodded, scooching over closer to Dean and seeming to shiver under the sudden body heat Dean was sure he felt. Castiel was not even a full foot away from Dean under the sheets, and the blond boy could feel him itching to be closer, glancing at Dean every now and then as he subtly scooched a few small inches closer when he thought Dean wasn't paying attention.

Dean was definitely paying attention.

So, with a theatrical sigh, Dean rolled onto his side facing Cas, gently pushing Castiel so his back was facing him as Dean molded them together, putting an arm around Castiel and letting his hand settle on the skinny teen's belly.

Castiel seemed shocked, at first. And, hell, he had every right to be. They were basically spooning. But it surprisingly wasn't as awkward as Dean had hoped it wouldn't be. It was comforting- touching one another. It was as if they were reassuring each other that they were here to stay- that they wouldn't be left alone. And Dean knew it was exactly what Castiel needed at that moment.

Fuck, Dean wasn't a cuddler. Whenever his one night flings stayed over the night, Dean would make it clear that there would be no cuddling- staying on his side of the bed until morning came. Dean didn't like the intimate touch- it seemed too risque for him. It was scary to trust someone with holding you so gently and seeing the most vulnerable part of you. It wasn't the same as the intensity of sex. It was nowhere near the same.

With Cas, though, Dean felt like he could do this forever.

Dean could feel Castiel's back relax against his chest as he let out a content sigh when Dean's other arm slid underneath Castiel, basically pulling him in for a hug. Castiel even went as far as to put a hand over the one Dean placed on his stomach, giving it a light squeeze and leaving it there, fingers slightly intertwined with Dean's own.

Dean suddenly realized that Castiel really had been deprived of touch like this. He lived most of his childhood being ignored and denied by those closest to him. Castiel needed this really bad- a soft touch. He needed it to relax and calm down and it was the only way he could get the bad thoughts of the past few days to leave his mind.

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel murmured, and Dean could hear the content smile in his voice- the sleepy haze slurring his words. It made him impossibly warm- made his heart flutter and speed up with the thought that  _he was finally making Castiel happy._ Just like Jo and Charlie. Dean swallowed, trying not to shift away when he was afraid that Castiel could feel his heartbeat against his back.

Fuck it, what did it even matter?

So Dean only pulled his friend closer, thumb rubbing lazy circles on Castiel's belly and fingers digging Castiel's own further into the gaps between his, interlocking their hands tight.

"Mmm," Dean responded, drunk off of the safety and sleepiness he suddenly felt as he nestled his face into the curve of Castiel's shoulder, subtly breathing in Castiel's scent. It smelled like Dean, again- mixed with the clean swirl of Castiel's shampoo.

They fell asleep instantly.

* * *

When Castiel woke up with irritably swollen eyes, he realized he didn't have any nightmares.

That was the first time since his mother's death that he didn't have nightmares on the anniversary.

And it more or less had to do with the fact that he was now facing Dean, chest to chest, with Dean's arm draped sleepily around him- his face peaceful and pink lips puckered with sleep, eyelids shut blissfully closed and dotted with freckles.

Castiel took a moment to study Dean's face, his breath caught in his throat at the sheer natural beauty of it. He counted each and every one of those beautiful freckles and felt a dire need to kiss every last one. Dean's lips looked so inviting, as well. They were full and slightly parted and just begging to be kissed good morning.

Licking his lips, Castiel buried those thoughts. No. Dean was just comforting him after his breakdown. He was just being a good friend, that's all.

So Castiel kept that in mind as he cuddled closer, allowing himself to indulge in Dean's sweet scent as he buried his face in Dean's chest, pretending to fall back asleep when he felt the blond boy stir with wakefulness.

He heard Dean's breath hitch in his throat, and Castiel kept his eyes shut closed. He could feel Dean's arm stiffen around him for a moment, and Castiel felt horror seep into his veins at the idea that maybe Castiel took this too far.

But that fear slowly slipped away as Dean's arm relaxed, slithering off from around Castiel (he tried to suppress an unsatisfied groan of protest) and moving to Castiel's hair to brush some off his forehead.

Castiel fought back the blush creeping it's way up his neck, because that would completely give him away. So he fake stirred sleepily, feeling Dean's fingers pause in his hair. When he resumed his peaceful state, Castiel felt Dean's fingers slowly brush down Castiel's cheek before removing themselves completely from him as the bed creaked underneath Dean with the movement of the teen sitting up. Castiel almost shivered with the sudden loss of body heat.

He could hear Dean groan with annoyance, and then the next thing he knew the blond boy was "waking up" Castiel.

"Cas. Cas, wake up. Let's get ready to go," Dean told him, jostling Castiel's shoulder. "You need to take a shower," he continued, but Castiel groaned in protest. He truly didn't want to move from Dean's bed. "C'mon, you smell gross," Dean commented, poking Castiel in the side and making him squirm.

"I do not," Castiel retorted, making a show out of pretending to be sleepy.

"Yeah, well, you still need to bathe. It'll help you feel better. C'mon, I'll make you breakfast," Dean told him, yanking the covers off of Castiel and letting the crisp, cold air attack at Castiel's body heat.

" _Dean_ ," Castiel moaned irritatedly, and this time it didn't require much acting as Castiel sat up, glaring at his friend.

Dean gave him a bright smile, which had Castiel mildly flustered, blinking stupidly. "I'll make you some eggs and toast. And some tea?" he offered, giving Castiel a pat on the back as he got up and rifled through his drawers, tossing a blue plaid button-up to Cas. "I'm guessing you'll be wearing your jeans from yesterday, because we're obviously not the same size," Dean mumbled, gesturing to Castiel's very-loose pajama pants. Castiel flushed at the thought of Dean paying attention to all the fine details of Castiel's pants size, and he nodded, grabbing the black t-shirt and blue button up that were thrown at him.

"Alright, go shower. I'll get breakfast ready," Dean told him before leaving the room.

Castiel got the feeling that Dean was purposefully trying to get him to wear Dean's clothing. And he honestly didn't mind.

* * *

When Charlie opened Jo's door with an enthusiastic "Cas! Dean!", followed by bone-crushing hugs, Castiel could already feel his worries of the previous days melting away.

He smiled as Charlie separated from him. "Hey, Charlie. I haven't seen you since yesterday," he joked, earning a laugh from Dean and a snort from the redhead.

"Oh come inside, you smartmouth. It's  _felt_ like forever," she added defensively, but not without a smile. Then she observed Castiel, perking up an eyebrow. "Those aren't your clothes," she noted, glancing at Dean like a cat who found an interesting new toy- her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Castiel blushed furiously, and Dean- thank God- stepped in. "He stayed the night unexpectedly. 'Needed some clothes," Dean had added with a shrug and a smile.

Charlie smiled back, but the twinkle in her eye lingered. "Uh-huh," she spoke, just as a brown haired girl that could pass as a model came up behind Charlie, a smile on her face. Charlie seemed to notice her presence without even seeing her, and turned around to face the brunette, smiling and gesturing a hand from Castiel and Dean to the girl. "Gilda, this is Cas and Dean. Cas and Dean, this is Gilda. She's going to be cutting your hair, Cas," Charlie explained with a smile.

Gilda smiled brightly- all white teeth and charm- and reached out a hand to shake Castiel's and Dean's. "I'm so glad I finally get to meet you guys!" she exclaimed.

They both smiled back, Castiel responding, "Likewise. I apologize that our first encounter must involve you cutting my God-awful hair." He looked sheepish, a smile on his face as Gilda laughed, running a hand over Castiel's hair.

"Nonsense! You've got gorgeous hair, sweetie! We just need to touch it up, is all," she commented with a dimpled smiled that had Castiel feeling warm and comfortable, already. Jo had come in behind Gilda, and she smiled at the boys as she gave them a wave. They returned the gesture, and suddenly Gilda was beckoning to Castiel. "You, come upstairs. Let's get your hair looking perfect," Gilda challenged, grabbing Castiel's hand and dragging them up the stairs into Jo's bathroom, commenting about how and where she was going to trim his hair all throughout their way up the stairs. Castiel had looked back at his friends with wide-eyes, meeting Charlie's thumbs up, Jo's snickers, and Dean's raised, uneasy eyebrow.

When they got to the bathroom, Gilda sat Castiel down on a chair. A rubber mat had been laid down underneath it, and Gilda draped a black smock over Castiel's front, buttoning it behind his neck.

"I know exactly what I'm going to do with your gorgeous locks," she mused as she ran fingers through Castiel's hair, bringing up the still slightly-damp tresses and removing it from his forehead (it tended to settle there recently since it was too long for Castiel to push it back with his fingers).

Castiel licked his lips, nodding. "Go right ahead- I trust you," he reassured with a smile. Gillda made a happy sound and picked up some scissors, going in front of Castiel to observe his face, measuring it with her fingers, chocolate brown eyes sizing up the teen.

"You've got such pretty eyes!" she observed with a smile. "My goodness, there's like a hundred different shades of blue in there," she added, grasping some hair between her fingers and positioning it to her liking before making a small snip. Castiel didn't know what to say to the compliment, so he gave a small smile. "I'm going to keep your hair pretty long, but we're going to shorten it on the sides and the back. Just give it a good trim, and make sure you push it back and up like this! Keep it out of those eyes," she ordered before giving a couple more snips, dark hair falling with light thuds onto the smock draped over him. "Although it seems like you won't even need product for that, your hair has that kind of naturally messy look to it," she said with a smile.

Castiel squirmed his nose when he felt a loose hair tickle it. "I normally cut my own hair- it had grown so long recently that I was afraid to touch it. I thought I'd ruin it," he commented.

Gilda's face scrunched up with confusion. "Why would you cut your own hair? Don't you get someone to do it?" she asked.

Castiel shook his head no. "Not for a while, no," he commented.

Gilda bit her lip, deciding not to comment on that as she instead directed the attention back to Castiel's hair style, snipping at different parts of his hair with practiced ease. After a while, she smiled at him. "That's already so much better! I can see more of your face, now. Wow, you're a looker," she commented, smiling happily at him as she continued to work at his hair. Some hair was sticking to Castiel's neck, prickling him, and he fought the urge to brush it away. "The girls at school must be flocking around you, huh?" she asked with a friendly smile.

Castiel blushed, looking down and offering a small smile. "Er, uh, no- not exactly," he commented.

Gilda's eyebrows rose. "I find that hard to believe. Those girls must be insane," she declared before raising an eyebrow, a figurative lightbulb going off over her head as a thought seemed to come to her. But she only continued cutting Castiel's hair, smiling. "That blond guy down there was cute, huh?" she noted, observing the way Castiel went beet red.

"Dean? Uh-"

"He seemed to have those pretty green eyes of his all over you," Gilda commented, observing Castiel's shocked face with a smirk.

Castiel could feel himself getting flustered, mouth hanging open. "N-no, uh, Dean's just my friend. We're- uh, we're just friends," he managed to babble, heat slowly flooding his cheeks.

Gilda smiled kindly, but her eyes were teasing. "Is that why you're wearing his clothes?" she asked.

Castiel blinked. "How did you-"

"They're a bit big on you, and quite frankly they just don't seem like your style. They happened to almost match Dean's clothes, though," she observed. When Castiel's eyes widened, she giggled. "Oh, don't worry. I'm merely observant."

Castiel was burning with embarrassment. "Well, it's not what you think. I only stayed the night and needed some clothes," Castiel argued, pathetically.

Gilda raised an eyebrow. "Okay," she said with a shrug, making Castiel's pause.

"Okay?" he asked.

Her lips twitched upwards. "Okay," she repeated.

Castiel's eyes squinted as he gazed at her, and she laughed. "Well, how about you and Charlie, then?" Castiel asked, making Gilda freeze and look at him with wide eyes.

"How did you-"

"I'm merely observant," Castiel mocked with a smug smile at his correct assumption.

Gilda twisted her mouth together, squinting her eyes back at Castiel. "Touche," she countered, giving him a smile.

"So?" he persisted, raising an eyebrow.

Gilda smiled. "Yes, you're right. But, hey, at least I'll admit it. Unlike you," she said, sticking out her tongue.

Castiel's eyes widened. "But there's nothing to ad-"

"You could start with admitting that you like him," Gilda suggested. "It's painfully obvious, already. So you might as well."

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed. "You've only just met him! You've only just met  _me!_  How could-"

"It's the way he looks at you, Castiel. You'd have to be blind not to see it," Gilda said with an eyeroll and smile. "And if the look he gave me when I dragged you up those stairs doesn't prove anything, I don't know what will," she added.

Castiel licked his lips, his throat dry. Before he could respond, though, Gilda stood back, eyeing Castiel's hair with a smile. "Perfect! Wait," snip, "there! Perfect!" she declared, unbuttoning the smock carefully as she grabbed a brush and dusted off the hair on Castiel's neck. "You look great!" she exclaimed, happy.

Castiel got up and looked in the mirror, a smile finding its way onto his face.

"Wow," he exclaimed, smiling at the brunette by his side. "Thank you so much- I owe you one," he commented, sincerity in his eyes.

Gilda rolled her eyes. "Any time, darling. You don't owe me anything," she insisted, ruffling some fingers through Castiel's hair as she smoothed the sides and spiked the longer parts to her liking. "You look so  _cute!_ " she exclaimed, practically bouncing. "Let's see that boy try and resist you, now," she challenged with a smile, cupping Castiel's cheeks as he blushed.

"I told you, we-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Gilda told him with another eyeroll, flicking a dismissive hand. "Anyways, meet Jo in her room- she has your uniform," Gilda instructed.

Castiel agreed, and helped Gilda clean up before he retreated to Jo's room. She was there waiting for him.

"Oh my God- _Cas!_ Your  _hair!_  You look so much older!" Jo remarked, running over to pull Castiel into a hug which he laughed into, wrapping an arm around her.

"Thanks, Jo," he replied, smiling when they separated.

"Honestly, though, you look so different! You look more mature and older and- wow," she insisted, nodding approvingly. "You look great."

In all honesty, Castiel  _felt_ great. He had gone through this difficult week the smoothest he's ever had. Everybody was being too great to him- Jo offering him a job, Ellen giving him the job, Charlie and Gilda offering to cut his hair, and Dean helping Castiel through his breakdown, not questioning him and taking everything Castiel had to say amazingly. This was all surreal, and Castiel could barely grasp onto all that was happening. He was going to start working, today! He was going to start earning money and seeing Jo and Ash more and he'll be able to feel like he's not useless anymore and everything was just taking a turn for the better. So Castiel shyly mumbled some more thanks to Jo, giving her a smile. Jo retreated to her bed, gathering up what appeared to be a black shirt and black apron.

"This is your uniform," Jo informed him, handing the clothes to Castiel. "We wear jeans, and it doesn't really matter what shade they are but we kind of tend to wear darker ones because they match with the shirt better and just look more professional," Jo told her friend.

Castiel nodded, taking in the information as he unfolded the shirt. His heart stopped when he saw that it was short-sleeved. Oh, no. He didn't even think about that.

"Uh- Jo," Castiel began. But he paused. He wasn't quite sure how to say it.

_I cut?_

_I have scars covering most of the skin of my arms._

_I'm an emo depressed psychopath that cuts himself._

Damnit, Castiel didn't even start his job yet and he was already going to lose it.

Jo's eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

Castiel licked his lips. "Uh- well, uhm, it's short sleeved," he mumured.

Jo smiled. "Don't worry, the diner is kept warm and you can bring a jacket. We got a place for the employees to put their coats and other stuff. You can wear a long sleeved shirt under it, but you gotta keep the sleeves rolled to your elbows for health code reasons," she assured him.

Castiel swallowed. "Uhm, it's not about the temperature. It's- ah, well," Castiel babbled. He stopped, took a deep breath, and looked Jo in the eyes. His heart was launched into his throat, and he felt dizzy on his feet. He needed to tell her. There was nothing else he could do and that realization had him wanting to run away as fast as he could. "I'm about to tell you something that nobody knows. And- uhm, well please don't take it badly, alright?"

Jo's eyes widened. "Cas, what-"

"I just need you to promise me you won't tell anyone," Castiel told her. "You have to swear. Not  _anybody._ Not even Dean, or- just nobody, okay?" Castiel asked, his voice shaking.

Oh, God. He was going to terrify her. She was going to run away screaming and she's going to call him a freak and they'll never talk, again.

"Of course," she responded in a whisper. "Nobody- got it. I won't tell," she assured.

Castiel drew his lips into a line as he looked into Jo's eyes, searching them. "You're the only one that will know about this, Jo. I really wish I didn't have to tell you," he murmured.

"What is-"

"Just- uh, look," Castiel told her, placing the uniform on a chair as he took a deep breath and held it in. When he quickly mustered up his courage, Castiel took off his jacket, then removed Dean's button-up, leaving him in a mere black t-shirt. He heard Jo's sharp intake of breath, and he didn't dare look at her face, keeping his head bowed.

"Cas," she whispered, shocked.

Castiel bit his lip, fighting back the prickliness in the back of his eyes. He forced himself to look up at her, and her eyes were watering, gathering with tears. "I-I've stopped," he stuttered. "Really, I have. I am trying really hard, and- well, I haven't in weeks. I promise you I haven't," he told her, his eyes begging her to believe him. Jo looked up at her friend, tears beginning to trickle down her face, now. She wiped them away, crossing her arms and then uncrossing them, looking as though she were searching for words to say.

"I-I mean I knew about the anxiety f-from the forest and all that, and," she cut herself off, biting on her lip. "Cas- I never thought-  _God,_ it never even occurred to me and I have no idea how I didn't realize," she spoke- her voice quivering as she swallowed harshly and wiped her tears furiously, not looking at Castiel, now.

"I'm sorry, Jo," Castiel spoke sincerely. "I really am, I swear. And I know that this complicates things and I'm really sorry, and," Castiel took a deep breath when he began to feel sick, placing his hands on his arms as he tucked them against him. "I just- please don't be mad, okay? I- I don't want you guys to hate me so I didn't want you all to know and just…  _please_ don't tell anyone?" Castiel asked hopefully, searching Jo's frantic expression.

Jo's mouth dropped and she blinked, looking into Castiel's eyes. "Why the hell would I be mad at you?" she asked, furious with Castiel's assumption. "Of course I'm not mad, Cas! I- I'm just… when was the last time?" she asked, reaching out gently to Castiel's arms and prying his hands off of them, extending them back out as she studied the numerous amounts of scars, holding his arms softly in her hands. Some of the cuts were still pink and some faded. She traced her fingers over the uneven terrace of skin, tears gathering in her eyes as something like "my God" left her lips.

Castiel swallowed back the lump in his throat and found his voice. "Uh- uhm, the day after my birthday. Later that night," Castiel whispered. "I haven't since, I promise," Castiel reassured her. "I'm so sorry, Jo. I tried to hide it- I didn't want you to find out. At least, not like this. God, I'm really, really-"

"Cas," she stopped him, letting go of him gently. "Stop- just stop. Don't worry, you don't have to apologize, okay? I understand," she told him, taking off her button up (she was wearing a tank top, underneath) as she came close, showing her shoulder. "Look, see?" she told him, urging him to look at the skin that was covered with light scars, some short and some reaching from her shoulder blade to the indent of where her shoulder and neck met. Castiel's eyes widened. The scars were old and faded, almost gone. He wouldn't have noticed them if he hadn't had searched for them. But they still left their presence on her fair skin, symbolizing her dark past. "Me too," she whispered, covering back up and looking Castiel in the eyes, now.

Castiel's throat felt dry. "Jo- I… I had no idea," he breathed out. The strong, cheerful, independent blond girl he had come to know was the last person he'd expect to resort to cutting herself. " _Why?_ " he couldn't help but ask.

Jo gave a sad smile. "You remember when I told you not to shut yourself away? How I told you to let people in?" When Castiel nodded, she continued. "Well, that's advice from personal experience, Cas," she admitted. "After my father died… I didn't take it well, I guess. I was really close to him, y'know? I shut myself away- I almost pushed away everyone- Adam, Chuck, Charlie, Ash, all of them. When they found out about the cutting, well, they got me to stop. It took a long time, but they did. Castiel, I know you don't want to tell them. And, trust me, I understand. But if you ever need some more support, we're all here for you, okay?  _Always_ ," she reassured him.

Castiel nodded, face drained and skin cold. "Yes- I know," he told her. Jo looked at him for a long time, her facial expression unsure. So Castiel pulled her in for a hug. "I promise- I know. I'm sorry," he apologized. He was sorry for everything- for cutting, for Jo's father, for Jo's depression, for pushing people away. He didn't know how to express his apology enough. But Jo seemed to understand as she hugged Castiel tight, burying her face in his shoulder.

"It's okay. It's okay," she reassured. "Just don't lock yourself away.  _I mean it_ ," she warned him.

Castiel nodded. "I won't. I won't, this time. I promise."

He could feel Jo smile against him. Then she froze in his grasp. She pulled away and looked into Castiel's eyes, her eyebrows furrowed. "Why do you smell like Dean?" she asked, then looked at Castiel's shirt. "That's Dean's," she noted, looking into Castiel's eyes with a smile. "Are you two-?"

" _No-_ my God,  _no,_ " Castiel insisted, going beet red for the hundredth time that day. "Why does everyone- no, I just slept over unexpectedly. I didn't have a change of clothes," Castiel explained, crossing his arms when Jo laughed.

"Okay, okay! Geez, no need to get all defensive. Anyways, get changed. I have some makeup we can use for the scars," she told him. "It should work- our skin tone is pretty similar. I'll give it to you, I don't need it anymore. I used to use it for the same thing," Jo explained, retreating to the bathroom connected to her room. "I'll be right back! Get changed," she ordered for the second time.

So Castiel stripped off Dean's black shirt, folding it neatly and placing it and the button up on a chair before he pulled on his uniform- a black t-shirt with the words "Harvelle's Diner" in white on the upper left of the front. The cotton was soft and nice, and the shirt was fairly loose on him. He hadn't worn just a t-shirt in a while, and the difference was strange. his arms felt too exposed, and he didn't like the look of them- all skinny and scarred.

Jo called Castiel over to the bathroom. He walked in to find her with two tubes of certain product in her hand.

"This one is scar removal," she told him, lifting up one of the tubes. "It's how I got mine to fade so much. You can have it," she told him, giving it to Castiel who thanked her and pocketed it. "This one is the cover up. It spreads really well, so you won't need much at all. It comes off with water and soap, though, so don't go around scrubbing your arms, okay? Be careful with that," she warned him. "I'm gonna teach you how to use it today, alright?" she told him, patting down on the bathtub rim for Castiel to sit down next to her.

Within five minutes, the cuts were completely covered, Castiel's skin miraculously clear. It had been fairly easy, since the rougher scars were on his upper arms, which were covered by his t-shirt. His lower arms had thin and light scars, which didn't have as much of a ropy texture.  He was smiling wide as he turned his arms around, looking at them this way and that. "I don't remember the last time they looked like this," he commented breathlessly. "It's so strange."

Jo smiled sadly as she washed her hands of the coverup. "I know what you mean. It looks good, though. Pretty believable," she commented.

Castiel smiled, gratefully. "Thank you, Jo. It means a lot- honestly."

Jo waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. Alright, you gotta tuck your shirt in," she told him. Go out into my room, I'm gonna change into my uniform in here. Get your apron on and I'll meet you out in a bit," she instructed.

Castiel nodded, leaving the bathroom and doing as Jo asked. Soon he had his shirt tucked in and his apron on around his waist. It wasn't the full body one, but the type that had all the pockets and went down to about mid-thigh. After much hassle, Castiel had it tied and adjusted properly. Jo came out of the bathroom a couple of minutes later, her hair tied up into a bun and her own uniform on. She had some things in her hands.

"Here's your nametag, and a notepad- you'll use it to write orders and stuff- do you have a pen in the apron? Oh, good. Okay, and we have bill-presenters at the diner, I'll show you how to use them, and how to use the register," Jo rambled as she pinned on Castiel's nametag, patting his chest, lightly. "There! You're all set! Now, come on, the others are probably wondering where we are."

* * *

Dean was sitting in the living room with Charlie and Gilda, talking to the two. He almost felt stupid for being jealous of Gilda, earlier. How he hadn't noticed she and Charlie were a couple, he had no idea.

Geez, he needed to stop feeling jealous so easily. It's not like he and Castiel were together. Castiel didn't feel that way, and pretty soon he would probably get a girlfriend. He was working as a waiter and getting himself out there, and sooner or later nobody would be able to ignore those blue eyes- and then Dean would just have to get over him. That would be the push. That would convince Dean that this needed to end.

He had his own date on Sunday, still. Everything was fine. Everything would go back to normal.

But he couln't keep that thought in his mind as he kept checking his watch. Where the hell was Cas? Gilda came down, like, fifteen minutes ago. All Cas needed to do was get changed.

Dean's heart stopped when he realized that Jo was upstairs, too.

They… they wouldn't be…?

_Would they?_

No. Don't be ridiculous, Dean.

Jo knew how Dean felt. Hell, she asked him about it almost every single day since she found out back in Thanksgiving break. She wouldn't do that to him, right? Jo just wasn't that kind of a person.

But Dean had made it fairly clear that he wasn't intending to bring actions towards his feelings. Maybe Jo had accepted that and gone for Castiel, herself?

No. No, no, that was not what was happening.

 _Then why were they taking so goddamned long_ , Dean couldn't help but wonder.

"Wonder what's taking so long," Charlie voiced Dean's thoughts, her eyebrows furrowed. "It's been, like, what, ten minutes?" she commented.

"Fifteen," Dean corrected, blushing when she looked his way with a raised eyebrow. "Ah- uh, I think," he murmured.

"That's strange," Gilda spoke. "Should we go check on them?" she asked, looking hesitantly at Dean. She was probably thinking the same thing he was.

"Nah, they'll be down in a second," he told her. "I mean, how long can it take?" he asked. He didn't want to believe what his mind was telling him.

And he almost exhaled a breath of relief when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Jo came into the living room first, a big smile on her face. "Ladies and gentle-uh, well- Dean," she began jokingly. "May I present the new and improved, Castiel!" she spoke theatrically, waving her hands in the teen's direction.

"Jo," Castiel's embarrassed voice spoke from behind her as he came to step by her side, a blush on his face. "We agreed on no entrances," he murmured to her, making Jo laugh.

Dean straightened up in his seat, his eyes widening slightly.

_Shit._

Castiel looked…  _really_   _nice_. His dark hair was trimmed neatly, yet it still held its naturally messy complexion- all waves and pushed back unruly strands, looking like the alluring sex hair Dean was used to- just  _better._ The new haircut showed off Castiel's cheekbones and brought more attention to his eyes, making them shine twice as much as they originally did- if that was even freaking possible.

And, damnit, Dean could get used to seeing Castiel in black. The dark color made him look… well, sexy was the only word Dean could think of. Castiel was wearing his black shoes that he had recently purchased, his jeans a dark blue and his t-shirt clinging to his slender frame, highlighting the shape that Dean had never noticed before, since it had been concealed under baggy clothes.

Wait- had Dean  _ever seen Castiel's arms?_

They were the best part- wiry and slender and a promising potential of strong muscles underneath, with a little training. Castiel had a runner's body- all slim with a thin waist that Dean had to tear his eyes away from.

Castiel would have to wear short-sleeves, more often.

Charlie and Gilda were throwing compliments at the dark-haired boy, Charlie hugging Gilda and complimenting her work, enthusiastically. When Castiel met Dean's eyes, shyly, Dean raised his eyebrows and gave him a weak smile, nodding his head up in recognition, making Castiel smile slightly.

Castiel fiddled with the hem of his apron, blushing as he looked down. "I feel stupid," he commented, making Jo laugh.

"Oh, shut up, Cas. You look great! Doesn't he, Dean?" she asked, giving her friend a look.

Dean blinked when everyone's eyes were suddenly on him. "Uh, yeah. You look good, Cas," Dean complimented, his voice strained.

Damnit.

Fucking damnit.

That couldn't have been more obvious.

But it had Castiel smiling more confidently, and that made up for the girls' smirks and stupid looks they were giving Dean.

"Thank you," Castiel responded with a softer smile.

Dean just nodded, trying to tame the heat in his cheeks. He turned to look at his friends. "So, you guys need me to give you a ride?" he asked everyone, more than willing for a distraction from his huge gay crush.

Charlie shook her head. "Gilda and I are good. We're going to head out," she told everyone as she and Gilda got up. "Nice seeing you guys! Good luck on your first day, Cas!" she exclaimed, giving him one last hug.

Castiel said his thank-yous, giving Gilda one last thanks that she returned with a hug, telling him "any time".

So Jo and Castiel gathered their things while Dean waited for them in the car. He had work in an hour, and he decided it would be alright show up a little early after dropping off Jo and Cas at work. When Castiel came outside wearing his jacket, Dean had to fight back the unexpected disappointment he felt. The two teens climbed into Dean's car, and Castiel returned Dean's clothes, giving him a thank you and a smile.

Dean may or may not have been excited about the fact that they would smell like Cas, now.

Just like his bed.

Christ.

Dean drove his friends to the diner (given instructions by Jo), and he bid them farewell, wishing Castiel luck on his first day and telling him he'd pick him up later on. Castiel had given Dean a thankful smile that left Dean in a great mood, blasting Metallica on the way to work.

* * *

When Castiel entered the diner, he was greeted by Ellen.

"You two made it right on time! I was just about to open," she told them with a smile. Jo flipped the sign from closed to open, now that it was eight, and Ellen commented on Castiel's hair.

"You look so grown up! 'Could hardly recognize ya. That Gilda girl did a nice job," Ellen commented, smiling as she called over to Jo to ask her to help get Castiel started.

Jo trained him throughout the entire morning, and around ten a continuous flow of people filed into the diner. Castiel quickly learned how to use the register, how to print and collect tabs, and basically where everything went and how he should place the dishes.

Castiel waited on about five different groups of customers in the course of the morning, and around twelve Ash and a girl with dark hair entered the diner. Castiel smiled at Ash- his hands too full with the many full dishes he was carrying to give a proper wave- when the brunette called out Castiel's name happily.

Once he had given the group of girls he was waiting on their orders (and refilled a few glasses), Castiel went over to the back where Ash and Jo were now situated, talking to the girl that Castiel assumed was Meg.

"Cas!" Jo exclaimed with a smile. "Hey, you're doing great. Oh- I gotta go. Ash, can you do introductions?" Jo asked, giving him a pat on the back before she grabbed a couple plates of hamburgers her mother had just settled on the counter.

"Alright, Meg- this is Castiel. We call him Cas," Ash introduced with a smile. "Cas, this is Meg.  _She's dangerous_ ," he whispered dramatically, earning an smirk from the girl.

"Yes I am, Lindberg. And don't you forget it," Meg agreed with a confident smile. She extended a hand out to Castiel. "Nice to meet you,  _Castiel_ ," she said the name slowly, as if tasting something suspicious-looking for the first time.

Castiel gave her a smile, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you," he replied.

Meg smiled slyly, looking him up and down in a way that made him blush automatically, self-conscious under the scrutiny. It was as if she were a carnivore observing a piece of meat. Castiel felt his heart race in a way that he normally only felt around Dean. It was odd, and he wondered what was going on with him as he looked into Meg's dark, alluring eyes.

They stared at each other for a while before Ash coughed and Castiel let go of her hand with a start, blinking and giving an apologetic smile.

"Uh- uhm, well, nice to meet you, and everything. I- uh, I've got to get going. People waiting, and- yeah," Castiel said with a smile, basically tripping over his feet as he clumsily walked back to tend to the people that were waiting on him, ignoring Meg's light laugh and trying to tame the heat in his cheeks.

Castiel worked busily the entire day, earning a good amount of cash tips to his delight (most of the tips had been on a credit card). He worked busily, focusing intently on not dropping any plates of food and not spilling drinks when he poured them into glasses.

He did quite well, actually.

Everyone he waited on seemed very nice to him, and he enthusiastically greeted them all, earning smiles and thanks. Castiel had never felt this confident in his life.

He tried avoiding Meg's eyes, giving her a few smiles every now and then. She did something to him, and Castiel couldn't understand what. He just found himself to be strangely allured to her, subconsciously finding a way to pass by her or allow her to brush her arm against his when they both reached for some plates or a glass.

When they were closing up and Castiel had just finished waiting on the last customers of the day, Meg came up to him at the cash register.

"Here," she said with a sly smile. "This is for you. From that blond that you just finished waiting on," Meg told him, pointing over at the table he had just came back from. Castiel knitted his eyebrows together as he took the folded sheet of paper and looked over at the table where the girl caught his eye. She blushed and looked away, getting up with her friend, and leaving the restaurant quickly.

Castiel unfolded the paper and looked at the numbers scrawled on it. A cell phone number?

"Why did she give me this?" Castiel asked curiously, looking up at Meg.

Meg laughed, but when Castiel didn't she stopped, raising an eyebrow. "Wait- you're not serious, right? Oh, God. You are. She likes you, Clarence," Meg said with a smirk. "She wants you to  _call her_ and ask her out on a  _date_ ," Meg explained, exaggerating words as if she were speaking to a toddler.

Castiel squinted his eyes. "My name's not- uh, nevermind. I do not know her…" Castiel murmured, pocketing the paper.

Meg snorted. "That's why she gave you her number. She  _wants_ to know you. Don't tell me that you've never had any experience with this?"

Castiel shrugged. "Alright, I won't tell you," he replied, blushing.

He could almost hear the raise of Meg's eyebrows. "No way. I don't believe it," she told him. She sounded truly astonished.

"You don't have to," he countered.

"I mean, I don't know. You're awkward or whatever, but you're a looker. You haven't gotten a girl's number, before?" Meg asked, persistent.

Castiel looked at Meg. She was being genuine, not making fun of him- if only teasing a little bit. "Ah, no. It's not quite my area of expertise," he informed her.

"Hm," Meg replied, jutting out her lower lip as she raised her eyebrows. "You coulda fooled me," she spoke, voice smooth and sweet as honey. She walked away with a smile, leaving Castiel flustered.

"Seems like Meg is warming up to you," Jo said with a smile as she came up to Cas, shuffling papers through her hands and storing them in the drawers the cash register sat on.

"Uh- yes, I suppose," Castiel responded, looking from Meg's figure over to Jo. "I feel like she will bite my head off within the course of a week," he admitted, making Jo laugh.

"Yeah, that's Meg. Don't worry, though. She likes you, that's how she shows it," Jo reassured him. "You did really good today, Cas," she told him. "I could see you were getting some tips," Jo observed with a smile.

Castiel smiled back. "I've gotten a lot more than I thought I would. I'm just surprised I didn't spill anything," he recapped.

Jo rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Oh, please. I know you wouldn't have. Honestly, though, you did awesome," Jo assured.

Castiel felt his heart warm. "I love working here. It's great, Jo. Thank you for the job," he told her.

Jo gave him a pat on the back, a wide smile on her face. "Glad to have you here."

And, for once, Castiel felt truly accepted.

* * *

They were all sitting at a booth and eating burgers that Ellen had whipped up for them when Dean walked in. Castiel was sitting next to Meg (or, rather, Meg had slid in next to him), and Jo and Ash sitting right across.

"We're closed," Jo called over to Dean jokingly, patting the small space next to her as she smiled, an invite for Dean to come over.

He did, and when he plopped down next to her with a smirk he observed Meg carefully.

"Hi," he greeted with a smile, all charm. "I'm Dean," he introduced himself.

"Meg," the dark-haired girl said with a smile, giving a nod of greeting.

Dean smiled back- a little stiffer, this time. "Nice to meet you," he replied, reaching over to take a fry from Jo- who let him with an eyeroll.

"You smell like grease and cars," Jo noted with a distasteful scrunch of her nose as she pushed her plate closer to Dean in offering.

"That's because I've been working on that wreck of a Volvo," Dean commented, taking two fries and dipping them in ketchup before he took a bite. "She's almost done, though. Well, by almost I mean about a week longer. Should be done in time for Christmas," Dean informed her.

Jo smiled. "That's good. Still, you smell bad."

Dean stuck his tongue out. "I tried washing up as much as I could," he defended. "Forgive me for not hopping in the shower before I got here."

"Not forgiven," Jo, Ash, and Castiel all chorused.

The table erupted with laughter while Dean wore a less-than-amused face.

"Ha-ha," he mocked, taking the rest of Jo's plate. "These are mine, now."

Everyone continued to talk about random topics ranging from the X-men to what things go best on burgers. When Dean expressed his adamant distaste towards onions, Ash got genuinely insulted and defended his layered vegetable with honorable pride. That conversation lasted about three minutes before the table had to vote on whether or not onions were good. Dean ended up winning three to two and Ash declared he'd perform a survey on a more "representative data". Dean told him to go for it.

At one point, Meg brought up the blond girl that had given Cas her number.

"No way, you got a number on your first day?" Ash exclaimed, gawking at the dark-haired teen. "I've been working here for over a year and I think I've gotten, like, two," Ash complained, playfully. Jo and Dean were kind of silent, but Jo put on a smile and laughed a little.

Castiel was blushing bright red, and Meg kept teasing him about it relentlessly. "She had me give him her number to give to him," Meg explained with a smirk. "He didn't even know what she was giving him her number for. Poor girl has no clue," Meg recalled with a shake of her head, smiling. When Castiel fiddled with a napkin, tearing at its edges, Meg elbowed him playfully. "Don't be so bashful, Castiel. I'm just teasing you."

Castiel gave a weak smile, feeling like his insides were melting and being mixed around with a white hot spoon. "Ah- uh, yeah," he stuttered, not sure what to say. "Uhm, I do not think I'll be calling her," Castiel admitted, looking down at his napkin.

Jo smiled. "You don't have to, Cas," she reassured him before Ash could say anything.

Castiel looked up to give Jo a grateful smile. He noticed that Dean was quiet, and when he met his eyes the blond looked away. That had brought a nervous twist within Castiel. Everyone picked up the conversational flow, again, and eventually the clock ticked from ten thirty to eleven. The teens were clearly exhausted and ready to head home.

"Alright, well I'm gonna go," Ash decided, having Dean and Jo get up so he could get out of the booth. "You need that ride, Meg?" he asked as Jo and Dean sat back down.

Meg smiled. "Yeah, I'm coming," she responded, getting up. "See you later, guys. Nice meeting you, Clarence," she told Castiel with a wink, making him blush as he gave her a smile and a wave. "And you too, blondie," she acknowledged Dean with a sly smile before she headed towards the door.

"See you, guys," Ash called out, following behind Meg.

"Bye," Jo replied when it was clear that Castiel and Dean weren't going to say anything. Dean had been fairly silent since Meg brought up the blond customer Castiel had waited on, and when Castiel looked at Dean their eyes met, again. The feeling that clenched at his stomach was no better than the last time. Dean got up, forcing a smile.

"You ready to go, Cas?" he asked.

Castiel nodded, getting up, as well. Ellen had walked out of the kitchen, now, and she gave Dean a smile.

"Nice to see you, Dean!" she exclaimed. "You heading out?" she asked as she handed Castiel his jacket. "You left this in the back," she told him. Castiel gave her a smile, thanking her as Dean responded.

"Yeah, Cas and I are leaving," he responded with the most real smile Castiel had seen on him since he entered the diner. "I'll visit soon, Ellen," he promised as she put her hands on her hips.

"You'd better. Take care, boys," she replied.

When they climbed inside Dean's Impala, it was awkwardly silent.

"Are you alright, Dean?" Castiel asked after five minutes of driving, looking at his friend as the glow of a red stoplight lit his face. They were heading to Castiel's house, since he had gathered his things and put them in the car before they left Dean's house earlier that morning. Castiel wanted to spend the night with Dean, but he knew that would be too much.

Still, he couldn't blame himself for wanting to try and get wrapped up in Dean's arms, again.

"Yeah, long day," Dean replied, glancing at Castiel and giving him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Oh," Castiel uttered.

It was silent.

"So Meg's pretty interesting," Dean began, glancing at Castiel before he looked back at the road.

Castiel blushed. "Uh, yes... I suppose," he responded, not quite sure what to say.

Dean shifted slightly in his seat. "You two seem close, already," he observed.

Castiel bit his lip. "Well, I guess so. I don't know- she just… makes herself known."

"Mhm," Dean replied, reaching to his cassette player to turn on some music.

When Dean pulled into Castiel's driveway, the dark-haired teen spoke up.

"Are we still working on our project, tomorrow?" he asked as he gathered his things.

"Yeah, of course," Dean replied. "I'll pick you up at twelve?"

"We can work on it at my house," Castiel offered. "That way you don't have to drive as much."

Dean smiled at that. "Alright, sounds good. Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Twelve?"

"Twelve," Dean finalized with a smile that sent Castiel's heart fluttering up to his throat.

Castiel returned the smile before getting out of the car. "Goodnight, Dean."

"Night, Cas."

And as Castiel waved goodbye at Dean from his front door, he listened happily to the sound of the Impala's engine until it faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is completed on my ff.n account :) link is on my profile


	17. Time for Change

Dean didn't remember choosing his clothing this carefully in- well…  _ever_ , actually.

He was going to Castiel's house, today, and the last time he was there he remembered suddenly noticing everything inadequate about himself. The house was huge and fancy and Dean wanted to feel as though he were actually worthy of stepping inside it, this time.

He knew that Castiel dressed normally. It was not like Cas went around flaunting a monocle and dressed in diamond-encrusted suspenders. If he hadn't been to Cas's house, before, he'd suspect that Cas lives in a house just as average as Dean's.

But, still, that didn't change the fact that Dean pulled on his nicest jeans and stood in front of his closet trying to choose between a green and red button-up that still had their tags on.

"I thought you were going to Cas's?" Sam inquired from Dean's doorway. "Don't you have to go?" the younger teen asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting changed," Dean replied, deciding on his green shirt and slipping it on after tearing off the tag and tossing it to the floor. He buttoned it up as he looked in the mirror, and he noticed that Sam was still standing in the doorway, leaning against it with a smirk on his face.

"You've been getting changed for, like, an hour," Sam pointed out. "Why are you taking so long?"

Dean froze halfway through buttoning, and he looked at his brother. Sam had sounded suspicious, and Dean tried to not blush at the hidden inquiry in his words.

"I've got a date, later," Dean defended, finishing up with his shirt before he tossed on his gray cargo jacket, shoving his keys and cellphone into his pockets.

"Oh…  _okay_ ," Sam spoke slowly.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he looked at his brother. The younger Winchester had an innocent look on his face, eyes widened when Dean looked over and lips drawn into a line as he tried to hold back laughter. "What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, feeling a sudden need to be defensive.

Sam shrugged, looking at his watch. "It's almost noon. You'd better hurry, Dean. Wouldn't want to keep Cas waiting," Sam said with a smirk before he ran off to his room when his brother glared at him.

"Sammy, I swear to-" Dean called out.

"Have fun!" Sam replied before shutting the door to his room.

Sam was just teasing. He didn't actually think…

No, of course not.

So, keeping that in mind, Dean headed out.

* * *

Before Dean came over Saturday afternoon, Castiel had spent a majority of the morning freaking out and trying to make the house look less intimidating. Last time Dean had come over, Castiel had noticed his awkward body posture and the way he seemed as if he didn't want to touch anything.

Well, until he got to Castiel's room, that is.

Castiel still remembered the light smile that lifted the corner of Dean's lips as he looked at the picture of Castiel and his family. He remembered the way Dean walked around his room, letting himself touch and observe things in a relaxed manner.

When Castiel remembered that, he decided that he'd have them work on the project in his room. So he assembled all the things they'd need, laying it out on a small table he had brought into his room. After he'd done the most he could to prepare (raising the temperature of his house being one of those things), Castiel sat down in his room and waited.

And waited…

At twelve fifteen, the doorbell rang.

Castiel raced down the stairs and opened the door to see Dean's apologetic face.

"Hey," Dean began. "Sorry for running late. I forgot the supplies at home and had to turn back," Dean explained as he lifted his backpack up, slightly.

Castiel smiled, opening the door wider. "It's no problem. Come in," he insisted.

When Dean walked past him, Castiel felt his heart leap at the smell of Dean's cologne as it wafted off him. Closing the door, Castiel allowed himself to observe Dean for a moment. The blond teen had obviously taken a shower before he arrived here. He smelled very nice and his face was clean-shaven. Also, Castiel noticed that Dean was wearing a shirt he hadn't seen, before. The material was a soft forest green color that made his eyes shine. Along with the new shirt was a pair of jeans that lacked their usual holes and scruff, just a smooth and nicely-fitting denim material that looked eye-catching on Dean's slender legs.

Swallowing back a lump in his throat, Castiel tore his eyes away from his friend. Had Dean gotten dressed nicely for Castiel?

He couldn't help but smile slightly at that thought.

So he led Dean to his room, and they worked on their project. They had to present it on Wednesday, so they agreed they'd try and get it done today so that they wouldn't have to struggle through their busy schedules to complete it.

Castiel had made some ramen for the two of them a couple of hours into their project, apologizing for lacking better food when he had brought the bowls into his room where Dean was gluing pictures onto their poster. Dean had just given him a charming smile, insisting that it was perfect. That had sent a flutter of warm butterflies within Castiel, along with the subtle brush of Dean's hand against his when he handed him his bowl.

Those touches had been frequent while they worked, a bump of their legs together and brushes of fingers when they handed each other things. They'd lean into each other's space as they worked on the poster, the air between them warm and intoxicating to Castiel's senses.

Once it reached five o'clock, they had almost completed their tri-fold poster. Suddenly, Dean's cell phone buzzed with a text message.

His eyes had widened when he flipped open the phone and realized the time, and he muttered " _shit_ " under his breath as he read the message. "Sorry, Cas, I got to get going," Dean apologized as he got up, picking up his backpack. "I've, uh, got a thing," he tried to explain.

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed as he stood up, as well. "A thing?" he asked, putting down the blue permanent marker held in his hand after snapping on the lid.

Dean blushed, slightly. "Uh, yeah. I've got a date," Dean explained almost apologetically. "I'm late, I was supposed to pick her up, like, ten minutes ago," Dean explained.

Castiel felt his heart drop at the news, his blood running cold with shock. "Oh," he uttered. He suddenly felt like he was not completely here. He tried to tell himself that this wasn't happening as dread seeped into his heart.

Dean was going on a date.

He was leaving early when they had planned to spend Sunday together.

He was leaving because he had a girl that he'd much rather spend time with.

That thought sent Castiel's heart pounding and brought upon a tingling behind his eyes.

Dean paused in his movements as he eyed Castiel carefully. He then looked away, shuffling awkwardly in his spot. "Uhm, should I leave the supplies here? I can come back tomorrow, and we can work on-"

"I'll finish it," Castiel insisted, surprised he could even speak when it felt as though his heart was lodged in his throat. "Do not worry about it," he added when Dean opened his mouth to protest.

Licking his lips, Dean nodded hesitantly. "Alright. Uhm, I'll text you tonight?" he asked, voice seeming strained and slightly hopeful.

Castiel nodded, his neck feeling stiff. "Yes, alright," he replied.

He led Dean downstairs, and as Dean walked out the door he spoke. "See ya, Cas."

Castiel felt sick and dizzy- like his whole world had been pulled out from under his feet.

"Have fun, Dean," he told him, forcing a smile when Dean looked back at him. The blond returned the smile, and it didn't quite reach his eyes as he waved slightly before climbing into the Impala and driving away.

When Castiel closed the door behind him, he retreated to his room and worked on the poster to try and rid his heart of its aching pounding. Halfway into writing a passage from one of Tennyson's poems, though, the poster suddenly became blurry as tears obscured his vision.

Castiel wiped them away stubbornly as he took a deep breath. He refused to cry. He would not resort to that.

Dean hadn't gotten dressed all nice for Castiel, he realized. And he suddenly felt very stupid and completely embarrassed for thinking he had.

That had brought more tears to Castiel's eyes as he put his pen down, wiping at his eyes again as he let out a tearful gasp. His heart felt as though it had been torn out of his body, leaving behind an empty, painful hole. He was honestly beginning to think that maybe Dean liked him. Castiel was starting to believe that maybe he had a chance with him.

He felt so stupid.

Dean didn't like him- not in the way that Castiel liked Dean, at least. Dean was straight. He was just kind to Castiel. He was too good for him and he was too perfect and Castiel wasn't worthy.

More tears falling down his cheeks, Castiel was hit with the aching realization that Dean could never love him.

And he was so naive to have thought otherwise.

* * *

Despite his hesitance with the date, Dean ended up having a really good time. His night with Pamela hadn't ended up with a typical "sex and never call again" fashion. They had actually only gone as far as making out and light groping in the movie theater, and Dean realized that he actually kind of liked her.

Pamela was pretty much awesome. She was funny and independent and Dean found that he enjoyed talking with her. It was basically the best date he had in a while, and they ended it with planning another one next weekend.

And as Dean drove home later that night, he thought about the date, thinking back to how happy Pamela actually made him.

Well, that was until he noticed that her hair was the same color as Cas's.

And her eyes.

But he tried not to think of that when he kissed her or talked to her or secretly wished for Castiel to be there.

Dean was finally starting to get over Castiel. Or, at least he was trying to.

And that was all that mattered.

* * *

Monday had been awkward. Throughout their day at school, Cas and Dean barely talked. Castiel had asked Dean how his night went, and Dean had answered truthfully, telling him it went really well. It was then that Dean remembered he had forgotten to text Castiel, so he asked how the project went. Castiel answered saying that he had finished it, and that had made Dean feel like absolute crap.

They hadn't talked other than that for the rest of the day, and Dean just kept reminding himself that this was for the better.

That was until lunch when Pamela had texted him and Ash had caught her name on Dean's phone.

"Who's Pamela?" he asked with a teasing smirk.

Dean blushed, shoving his phone in his jacket pocket. He noticed Castiel tense across from him. The dark-haired teen had been reading a book all throughout lunch, barely paying mind to those around him until Ash mentioned Pam's name. "No one. Just a girl," he answered with a mutter, trying to stop the conversation before it could pick up.

But the rest of the table (besides Castiel) was now looking at Dean, curiously. "Has Dean Winchester found himself a lady?" Ash asked, elbowing Dean and laughing before taking a sip from his bottle of juice.

Dean rolled his eyes. "We went on one date," he defended. He really didn't want to have this conversation. Not when Castiel suddenly looked up at Dean with blue eyes that were filled with confusion and hurt.

Adam smiled from Castiel's left, leaning forward as he looked at Dean. "So, did you two…?"

" _Jesus_ , no we didn't," Dean replied, wanting to crawl under the table at that moment. "We just went on one date, for Christ's sake."

"From what I heard, that didn't stop you from your 'night' with Lisa," Ash said with a sly smile. When Dean glared at him, Ash laughed. "Calm down, Dean. You know I'm just messing with you. Anyways, do you like her?" he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

Dean licked his lips. "Yeah. Yeah, she's nice," he admitted. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to break through bone and flesh. "Uhm, I'll be right back. 'Gonna go get some water," he announced, getting up and walking away from the lunch table as fast as he could.

When he got to the cafeteria fridge and retrieved a bottle of water, he turned around to see Jo with the most pissed off look she had ever worn.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked as she advanced on him, seeming genuinely angry, her hands balled in tight fists.

Dean's jaw dropped, and he straightened up before answering her. "What do you mean?" he asked in a slightly angry tone, trying to play dumb.

Jo put her hands on her hips as she glared. "So you've got the nerve to ask out and fuck random girls but you won't tell Cas you like him?" she accused.

Dean's eyes widened, and he looked over at their lunch table at the other side of the commons. Nobody was watching them, yet he still worried they'd find out what Jo said, anyways.

He looked back at Jo and sighed before he answered. "I'm not going to ask out Cas, okay? I just… it's not going to happen. It's too weird," Dean replied, trying to sound conclusive. Who was Jo to accuse him like this? He had only slept with Lisa, anyways. Dean had given Cas practically his full attention ever since he met him. Hell, he deserved to try and start a relationship with a girl. This whole thing with Cas was ridiculous. It shouldn't happen- Cas just  _didn't_ feel that way. Not about Dean, at least. 

Jo looked bewildered at Dean's answer. " _Why?_ " she asked, fuming. "Because he has a dick? Because you want to defend your 'masculinity'?" When Dean opened his mouth to reply, she rolled her eyes and grabbed a couple of napkins. "Get over yourself, Dean," she hissed before heading back to their table with an angry stomp in her stride.

And Dean was left there, mouth dry and heart heavy in his chest, feeling even worse than before.


	18. Travel

Eventually, things settled down between Castiel and Dean. They went through their usual routine of studying together and seeing one another at school. Castiel worked at the diner, and Dean worked at the auto shop. Things gradually began to go back to normal, and Castiel noticed that Dean seemed grateful for that.

And when Castiel found out that Dean had another date with Pamela, he simply gave his friend a genuine smile and told him that he hoped he had fun. It only took a couple of nights of holding back tears and telling himself to get over it for Castiel to return himself to his regular schedule. He was not over his heartbreak- well, he never truly could be- but Castiel knew he could not allow his unrequited affections to hurt him. He couldn't let Dean's choices impact him. Not like this.

It's not like Dean was supposed to fall in love with Castiel and be his forever. Castiel didn't own Dean, and he knew that. So he encouraged Dean to continue dating Pamela, listening about their dates and trying so,  _so_ hard not to envy her. It was difficult not to imagine, though, and Castiel couldn't stop himself from at least doing that. He spent more time than he'd like to admit wishing that it was him going to the movies with Dean's arm around him as they watched a crappy film. He constantly thought of what it would be like to walk through the park at night with Dean and talk as they sat on the swings. The worst part was knowing that Pamela was living out all of Castiel's most precious dreams. Castiel tried  _so_ hard not to wish it  _him_ that those green eyes looked at so fondly. He tried to ignore the fact that he wished it was him holding Dean's hand and kissing Dean's lips and making Dean happy.

Because it wasn't him, and he knew it would never be.

And Castiel knew he had to accept that, no matter how much it might hurt.

Soon Christmas break was upon them. School was over for the semester, and Castiel had made all A's. He couldn't wait to tell his father, and he hoped that maybe this Christmas he could finally make his father happy with him. Castiel had earned his first paycheck, and he gave some money to Ellen to get her to buy one of his dad's favorite bottles of wine (one Castiel could afford, at least). Ellen had agreed, and later on she returned with the bottle Castiel had requested. It was a red wine (Andezon, Cotes-du Rhone Syrah). Castiel remembered his father drinking it during Christmas time when Castiel was a child, and he knew his father really liked it. He had remembered most of the strange name on the bottle, and after doing some research he had found it online, and a local store to get it from.

So he wrapped it up nice and set it under a giant plastic Christmas tree that he pulled from their storage closet. They hadn't used the tree in years- not since the church came over when Castiel was only a freshman in high school. He decorated the tree with a box filled with decorations, and after adding some fairy lights Castiel had deemed it an acceptable Christmasy decoration that made even the coldness of his home seem warmer with welcome.

Castiel then spent the whole week cleaning up the house and preparing for his father's arrival. He had bought some food that he could easily prepare with some google tips (a ham, some mixed vegetables, mashed potatoes, and biscuits), and Castiel worked on preparing the food all throughout the morning of Christmas, setting up the dining table to look flawless for his father's arrival.

The group was staying in town for Christmas, convincing their parents not to plan any trips because they had planned a new year's eve party at Charlie's house, and they all wanted to attend it. Everyone was busy for Christmas, each teen having to deal with family members. Uncle Bobby would be visiting the Winchesters, and Dean had planned to hang out with Castiel the day after Christmas in order to exchange gifts.

Castiel had felt strangely warm at the fact that Dean had gotten him a gift, and he tried to hold in his need to tell Dean what he had gotten him. Castiel had used practically all of his tip money on getting gifts for his friends, and he had no regrets about it.

But Dean's gift was the most special. Dean's gift included things Castiel bought and something that was a part of him.

He had spent an extra-careful amount of time choosing the gift and then wrapping it up with green and red Christmas paper. He stored all of his friend's presents in his closet for safekeeping, fighting back the excitement he felt course through his veins. Castiel loved the presents he chose, and he was certain his friends would, too. They would all be exchanging gifts at Charlie's party, and Castiel found that he was counting down the days until then.

He kept his friends in mind as he prepared for his father's arrival. It had snowed that day, piling up to nearly a foot high. It was unexpected, and Dean had called Cas, telling him they were totally having a snowball fight when they met up. Castiel smiled to himself as he prepared his father's dinner, trying to think of his friends in order to push down the uneasiness that stirred in his stomach. Castiel's father would be coming home at four o'clock on Christmas day, and now that that day had arrived Castiel was a nervous wreck.

His phone buzzed with messages as he cooked, and he allowed himself to look away from his ham to read his text messages.

_Charlie: Merry Christmas, Cas! I've got plenty of new awful-dress photos, so be prepared… xoxo_

Castiel chuckled before answering, a smile wide on his face.

_Castiel: I look forward to it. Merry Christmas, Charlie._

He sent the message and then read the next one.

_Jo: Mom and I say Merry Xmas! Have fun with your dad, Cas! I'll see you bright and early, tomorrow ;)_

Castiel smiled. The diner was closed for Christmas, today, but would be open tomorrow. Castiel had been working all throughout the break, scheduling his work days for basically every day except Sundays and Charlie's party. He enjoyed working, so he didn't mind.

_Castiel: Merry Christmas, you two. See you tomorrow, Jo._

Chuck and Adam sent "Merry Christmas" texts, as well, and Castiel replied to them both. Ash drunk texted him (Castiel suspected), his words horribly misspelled and instead of saying "Merry Christmas" he wrote "Happy Easter". That had sent Castiel laughing as he replied with "You'd better check the snow for those eggs. I heard the Easter Bunny hid them extra well this year".

He read Dean's texts last, and what the first one said warmed his heart.

_Dean: y'know, I can still help with your dad's dinner if you want? things goin' ok?_

And the next text messages put Castiel through a fit of giggles.

_Dean: Bobby dropped the ham. we gotta resort to eating it off the floor like animals of the wild_

_Dean: got Sam a Sapphire Barbie doll as a prank gift. hes not amused_

_Dean: Im the best brother ever_

Castiel rolled his eyes as he responded, his cheeks hurting from smiling so hard.

_Castiel: Everything is going fine. I've managed not to burn dinner, and I believe it might even be edible. Father will be proud. Sorry about your dinner, but you could always pick it up and call for the five-second rule. Dean, get your brother a proper gift._

Castiel placed his cell phone on the counter as he set up the dining table with their best dishes and placemats, making the dining room as beautiful as he could manage.

When Castiel went back to the kitchen, his phone had a new text.

_Dean: Proud of you, Cas. I bet it's great. &its all good- got Sam a DS & a game for it. what kind of a brother do u think i am?_

_Castiel: The best one. Merry Christmas._

It took a couple of minutes before Dean replied. Castiel found it to be unusual, because Dean normally replied right away, unless he was sleeping.

_Dean: Merry Christmas. See u tomorrow & good luck._

Castiel decided to leave it at that as he finished up dinner. It was almost four o'clock, and the dark-haired teen tried to tame the nervousness that shook his body.

When the front door finally opened, Castiel was standing at the dining table waiting nervously for his father.

"Castiel?" his father's voice called out, curiously.

"In the dining room," Castiel replied, straightening a couple of dishes before standing up straight when his father walked in.

The tall man froze, eyeing the table suspiciously. "What's all this?" he asked, his voice monotonous.

Castiel suddenly felt his throat tighten. "Uhm, I made dinner for you. Uh- for Christmas and… yeah," Castiel murmured, shrugging, his hands interlocked behind his back as he looked down and away from his father.

It was silent for a moment. "Oh."

Castiel looked up at his dad, noticing the surprised look that now enveloped his face. "Uhm, I got you something, too," Castiel informed him as he rushed to the living room to retrieve his father's present from under the tree. When he got back to the dining room, his father had taken off his scarf and coat and had hung them on the coathanger, revealing his expensive suit underneath. Castiel handed his father the wrapped wine bottle, and his father took it slowly.

After he unwrapped it, he observed the bottle with a dismissive air to his gaze. "How did you afford all of this?" he asked, gesturing to the table.

"Uh, I work at Mrs. Harvelle's diner- Jo got me the job. I wait on tables. I got some tips and my first paycheck and I wanted to make a Christmas dinner for when you got home, because… well, uh, we haven't had one in a while. I gave Mrs. Harvelle the money to buy the wine for you," Castiel informed his father.

His father scrutinized the bottle further. "Thank you," he uttered.

Castiel smiled wide, his heart leaping in his chest. "You're welcome," he replied, pulling out his father's chair for him to sit.

He did, and they both sat across from one another at the dining table, silently eating the Christmas dinner Castiel had prepared.

Well, Castiel spent more time discreetly eyeing his father when he tried different dishes to make sure he didn't completely despise it. Dean had given Castiel a lot of help on the recipes and how to prepare the food, and they had practiced cooking simpler things at Dean's house days before. He only hoped his practice paid off.

And it seemed as though it did. Castiel's father ate the food without any flinching or spitting, so Castiel took that as a good sign as he let himself relax and eat.

"How are your grades?" the authoritative man asked, eyeing Castiel dangerously as he poured some wine into his glass, as if he suspected this whole dinner was placed in order to prevent Castiel from getting kicked out.

Castiel pulled out his report card from his pocket. It was folded and creased sharply from the many times Castiel had pulled it out to observe it. "I got all A's," Castiel told his father as he handed him the paper.

The older man took the yellow paper, opening it and reading the grades carefully.

After a few agonizing minutes, he set it down. "Good job, Castiel," he spoke, seeming rather impressed. Castiel smiled, holding back the excitement that bubbled within him.

"Thank you," he replied.

After a couple more minutes of eating, his father spoke again. "Where did you learn to cook this?" he asked. Castiel deemed the statement as a compliment to his cooking.

"I, uh, I looked up the recipes. Also, my friend Dean gave me some instructions," Castiel replied, picking up his glass of sparkling apple cider as he took a sip.

"Dean… the fellow that's been giving you lifts to school in that old Impala?" Castiel's father asked, making Castiel choke on his cider, the fizz burning his nose.

Castiel coughed, clearing his throat before he answered. "Uh- uhm, yes. Yeah, how did you-"

His father rolled his eyes. "I've seen the car parked outside the house, Castiel. It's a loud thing. You've been around this friend of yours quite frequently. It's horribly rude for you to have kept him from visiting our home," the man pointed out, seeming quite agitated. "You should invite him for dinner, tomorrow- seven o'clock. I'd like to meet him officially," Castiel's father declared.

Castiel's head was spinning. Since when did his father care about Castiel's social life? This was all completely mind-boggling, and Castiel felt a sudden dire need to just run away to his room and never come out. He didn't want his father to meet Dean. He knew that he would only try to scare him away or judge him horribly. "Uh, yes, sir. I will call him," Castiel replied weakly, deciding not to tell his father that Dean had already visited their home while he wasn't here.

"Let me know what he says," the man replied, wiping his hands with a napkin before setting it down and retreating from the dining room.

Castiel felt his heart sink in his chest. This was not going to go well, at all.

* * *

Dean was busy cleaning the dishes when Castiel called. He wiped a hand on a towel and flipped open his phone, propping it between his shoulder and ear as he continued washing dishes. "Sup, Cas?" Dean asked.

"Dean? Uh, something happened…" Castiel's voice spoke from the staticky connection between their phones.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed as he paused from washing a bowl. "What? What's wrong?" he asked.

Castiel seemed hesitant. "Uhm. Well, uh, my dad decided he wants to meet you, apparently," Castiel explained.

Dean's heart nearly stopped in his chest. " _Huh?_ " he asked, unable to form words.

"I'm sorry, Dean. Uh, he wants you to come over for dinner, tomorrow. He noticed you were giving me rides to school and that I've been hanging out with you a lot and when I told him that you helped me with dinner and stuff he asked about you and I told him you're my friend and I don't even know why he's curious but he is, so he said he'd like to meet you," Castiel spoke fast.

"Woah, woah, calm down, Cas. Uh, yeah, sure. No problem. What time does he want me over?" Dean asked.

"Seven. I'm sorry," Castiel apologized, again, his voice hushed and seeming very small, as if he were afraid his father would hear their conversation.

"You don't have to apologize," Dean said with a laugh as he washed another dish. "It's just dinner. I mean, how bad can it be?" Dean asked, although he had a pretty good feeling that he knew.

"You might find my father to be… difficult to converse with," Castiel spoke, voice gruff. "You don't have to come," Castiel added when Dean didn't reply.

"No. No, I'm coming. We can go after work. It's all good, don't worry," Dean assured.

Castiel huffed, the exhale of his breath loud in Dean's ear. "Alright. Well, Merry Christmas. I'll see you tomorrow," Castiel spoke.

Dean smiled into the receiver of the phone. "See ya."

* * *

The next day Castiel had been frantic during work. He couldn't stop thinking about the activities that would take place tonight, and that had caused him to mix up a bunch of orders and nearly drop a few dishes. Ellen had been concerned when Castiel mixed up his fifth order, and she had him work in the back cleaning dishes with Meg, instead. Castiel had listened to Meg talk about random things, grateful for the slight distraction. He couldn't stop worrying, even when Dean assured him this morning that everything would be fine.

Castiel had agreed to go with Dean to his house after work so that Dean could get ready. He had said that he "didn't want to smell like crap cars" during dinner, and that had gotten a nervous laugh out of Castiel.

So now Castiel was sitting on Dean's bed, waiting for the teen to get out of the shower. Castiel had changed into a blue button up (one that Dean seemed to eye warily), and had slipped on some clean jeans.

When Dean walked into his room, he was humming and softly singing to a tune Castiel didn't recognize, towel hung low on his waist and skin glistening with beads of clean water. Castiel tried not to stare as he looked away.

"No peeking," Dean joked when he saw that Castiel had looked away.

Castiel rolled his eyes, fighting off a blush. "I'm not, Dean. Hurry up, please," he spoke impatiently, making Dean chuckle.

"Alright, alright," Dean spoke, resuming humming the tune he was singing earlier. Castiel let himself listen to Dean's smooth voice, accompanied by the rustle of denim and the clinking of a belt. "It's safe to look, now," Dean informed his friend.

Castiel looked over at Dean to see that he was still shirtless, his towel in his hand as he rubbed it through his hair, looking through his closet for a shirt to wear. All Castiel could think was  _how on Earth is this safe to look at?_

Dean was well-built, Castiel noted. He wasn't exactly putting any bulky body builders to shame, but Dean was slender, the outlined trace of abs firming his stomach and his arms rippling with the beginning of built muscles. Although he had a flat, firm-looking stomach, Castiel could still detect the softness that Dean's belly seemed to hold, and he felt a sudden strong urge to run his hands all over Dean's shirtless self.

Clearing his throat, Castiel looked away, trying to tame the heat in his stomach.

Pretty soon Dean had dressed himself in a black t-shirt with a green button up, throwing on his navy cargo jacket over that. Castiel tried to ignore his extreme disappointment on the amount of layers that guarded his eyes from Dean's bare skin.

It was not like Dean was his.

Dean was  _straight_.

_Dean was Pamela's._

"Do I look presentable?" Dean asked, spreading out his arms and giving a winning smile.

Castiel rolled his eyes. "You always look presentable," he spoke before he could even gather what he said. He noticed Dean blush and suddenly Castiel wanted to smack himself across the face. He was not very skilled at hiding his immense attraction towards his best friend, especially not recently.

"Uh, thanks," Dean replied, looking in the mirror as he looked away from the dark-haired teen.

Standing up, Castiel gave his friend a forced smile, trying to ease the tension. "You ready?" he asked.

Dean turned around from fixing his hair in the mirror to return Castiel's smile. "Yeah, definitely. Let's go," he insisted as he grabbed his keys and cell phone from his desk, shoving them in his pocket and walking out the door. Castiel trailed behind him, his heart fluttering when he smelled Dean's shampoo waft from behind the blond boy as he walked.

Before they went out the front door, Dean stopped at the kitchen, retrieving something from a cabinet. Castiel quickly noticed it was a bottle of white wine.

"What's that for?" Castiel asked.

Dean gave his friend a smile. "It's a present for your dad from Bobby. I'm tryin' to get on Mr. Novak's good side," Dean explained with a wink. "You think he'll like this brand?" Dean asked, lifting up the bottle for Castiel to inspect.

He quickly looked at the label on the bottle, and nodded. It was one that Castiel's father would normally provide at house parties he'd hold. "It's great, actually. Thank you, Dean," Castiel said with a smile. "You really didn't have to do all this," Castiel added.

Dean gave his friend a genuine smile, his dimples alluring and his eyes bright. "It's no problem. Now come on, let's go. We're gonna be late."

* * *

When Castiel unlocked the door to his home, he found that his fingers were shaking.

What on Earth led to this?

Taking a deep breath, Castiel opened the door to his home, letting Dean in first before walking in behind him. The house was warm and inviting, although the furniture looked to cost more than a human kidney. But there was nothing Castiel could really do about that. He inwardly cringed when he noticed Dean stiffen up a bit, already looking uncomfortable. Nobody else would be able to notice Dean's discomfort, but Castiel did.

"Castiel?" a baritone voice rung out.

"Yes, I'm here. Dean is here, as well," Castiel replied.

"Ah, well come into the dining room. I'm just finishing setting the table," Castiel's father replied.

The dark haired teen was completely shocked at his father's light, and… well, parent-like tone. It was unusual to hear except for when-

Oh.

That's what this was all for.

Castiel's father had definitely noticed Dean's suspicious gaze that week at Ellen's house. He wanted to pretend to be an excellent father so that Dean would think he was and reassure whatever doubts came from others (specifically Ellen and Jo).

Castiel's heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach as he led Dean to the dining room. Although this would make dinner less awkward and Castiel was slightly relieved, he still felt disappointed. It was just more lies that would be thrown at Dean- lies that he could honestly do nothing about without causing chaos.

When Castiel's father came into view, Dean gave him a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, sir," he greeted with a handshake that the man strongly accepted. "I'm Dean Winchester."

Castiel's father gave a polite smile. He was adorned in a suit, as usual. His hair was combed back and his face shaved. He looked like a normal father. Castiel felt strange just looking at him- he almost couldn't believe this was the same man who hurt and abused him. "It's very nice to properly meet you, Mr. Winchester."

Dean gave a nervous laugh. "My father is Mr. Winchester. You can call me Dean," the blond teen replied. Castiel smiled. Dean seemed so at ease and he was just a very likable person. Castiel even noticed his father's shoulders loosening up as the smile on his face became more genuine.

"Nice to meet you, Dean," the taller man spoke.

Dean smiled warmly. "Oh, and this is a gift from my uncle," Dean added, handing the bottle in his hand to Castiel's father.

He took the bottle with a "thank you". "Please, have a seat," he insisted, gesturing towards the table.

Dean sat at the table, Castiel sitting at his right. Castiel's father sat across from Dean, and Castiel could feel his heart pound in his chest.

Despite his anxieties, though, Dean impressed Castiel's father, thoroughly. He was absolutely charming, stirring up light conversation over dinner, asking about Castiel's father's work and praising him on his "genius" when the man told stories of cases he'd been busy with. Dean listened intently and spoke of how his little brother wanted to be a lawyer, and that had brought up the topic of Dean's family.

"You said your uncle gifted this wine," Mr. Novak spoke as he poured some more into his glass. "Does your uncle live with you?" he asked, eyeing Dean.

Dean straightened up slightly in his seat, and Castiel tensed. The topic of Dean's authoritative figures had somehow managed to go unmentioned throughout dinner, until now.

"My father works away from home, a lot. My Uncle Bobby takes care of Sam and me while he's gone. He, uh, he doesn't live with us. He just checks up often," Dean explained.

Castiel's father nodded. "I understand. My work calls for the same priorities. Speaking of which, I appreciate you watching my son while I'm not here to care for him," Mr. Novak said with a smile. Castiel felt his throat squeeze. He could almost hear the unspoken "blow my cover and this is the last meal you'll eat" aimed at him.

Dean smiled. "It's no problem, at all. Cas- uh, Castiel is a good friend. Sam and I enjoy spending time with him," Dean spoke honestly, kicking Castiel's foot lightly under the table in assurance.

Castiel felt his heart warm and calm at the statement, and he fought back the smile that lightly lifted the corner of his lips as he chewed on a piece of lasagna.

The rest of dinner went smoothly, with Dean's foot resting against Castiel's under the table. He tried not to blush, because Dean was only doing it to calm him down. When they finished eating, Dean helped Castiel clear the table. After Dean insisted he'd like to help with washing the dishes, Castiel's father had kindly declined, saying that Dean was the guest and shouldn't have to.

So Castiel took Dean upstairs to retrieve his Christmas present. The blond was confused when Castiel had insisted that they needed to go to his room, but he followed anyways.

"That wasn't so bad," Dean commented when they were in the safety of Castiel's room. "You made me think it'd be a lot worse. Your father is pretty nice," Dean noted.

Castiel shrugged as he rifled through his closet. "He liked you. You did very well, Dean," Castiel said with a smile. "I was impressed."

"Hey, I can be decent if I wanna be," Dean defended, plopping himself down on Castiel's bed, the simple action making Castiel's heart leap. "Ye of little faith," Dean added with an old English accent, making Castiel laugh.

"No, I knew you'd be alright. I was just worried my father wouldn't," Castiel clarified as he pulled out Dean's present. "Here we are," Castiel commented with a smile when he turned around.

Dean looked shocked at the present in Castiel's hands. It was fairly big and square-shaped, with another smaller and flatter square-shaped present on top. "These are for you," Castiel spoke as he walked over to his friend and handed him the wrapped presents.

Dean's jaw dropped as he accepted the presents hesitantly. "Cas, you didn't have to. I mean, like, geez this is a lot," he noted as he weighed the presents in his hands.

Castiel smiled as he sat down next to Dean. "Well, you deserve that and more," Castiel pointed out. "You've honestly helped me out so much, Dean. Also, I've got Sam's present for him. I could give it to you to give to him before you leave."

Dean looked over at Castiel, blue and green eyes meeting for a long moment before he tore his gaze away and looked at his wristwatch. "Hey, do you want to open this in the car? I've got your present in there, too," Dean spoke, looking up at Castiel with a raised eyebrow.

Castiel nodded, smiling. "Yes, alright."

So after also giving Dean Sam's present, the two friends went down the stairs, grabbing their coats from the coat hanger. Castiel told his father he'd be right back, and Mr. Novak bid Dean a kind farewell, then retreated upstairs to his office.

It was cold outside, and the snow crunched under Castiel's feet as he walked with Dean to the Impala. Dean reached into the trunk and brought out a nicely-sized package wrapped poorly with silver wrapping paper- little snowmen dotting the shiny parchment.

"Uh, I'm crap at wrapping," Dean spoke, blushing as he scratched at the back of his neck in an embarrassed manner. "Hey, do you want to sit in the car or on the trunk?" Dean asked as he handed Castiel his gift, which he accepted with a smile.

Castiel smiled. "Let's sit out here. It was too hot in the house," Castiel commented.

Dean agreed with a laugh, and they both sat on the trunk of his car, legs touching as they adjusted themselves into a comfortable position. "Open at the same time?" Dean asked with a smile when Castiel looked his way.

Castil grinned back. "Alright. One, two, three-"

Wrapping paper was ripped, and Castiel found that he was looking over at Dean rather than at the gift in his hands. He wanted to see Dean's facial expression.

And it was so worth it.

"Cas,  _shit_ , it this-" Dean cut himself off, delicately running fingers over the record player in his hands. It was a small box record player that used to belong to Castiel when he was younger. In the second package there were about six records consisting of Metallica, Led Zeppelin and other bands that Castiel had bought at an old music shop. Ash had taken him, and he helped Castiel find music that Dean would love, since they had practically the same taste.

"Do you like it?" Castiel asked, feeling uneasy.

"Do I- hell yeah, of course I do!" Dean exclaimed, letting out a breathy laugh as he looked through the records. "I haven't even shown these bands to you yet," Dean noted. "How did you know I-"

"Ash helped me out a little," Castiel explained.

Dean licked his lips as he looked up from his gift to Castiel. "The record player- these things are expensive. How did you afford it?" Dean asked.

Castiel smiled. "It used to be mine. It was a gift from my mother when I was four. We'd listen to jazz and classical music on it when I was little," Castiel explained.

Dean's eyes widened. "Cas, I can't take this," he suddenly spoke, handing the record player back.

But Castiel just shook his head, pushing the item back to Dean. "No. I want you to have it. I do not use it, anymore. I think it should be put to good use, and I know you'd enjoy it more than me," Castiel insisted.

Dean's eyebrows were furrowed. He was hesitant. "Your mother gave it to you."

"And she'd be happy that it will be used by someone who loves it, rather than stuffed to the back of my closet and collecting dust," Castiel argued. "Honestly, Dean. I'd really like for you to take it," Castiel repeated.

Dean drew his lips into a tight line before he reluctantly nodded. "Alright. But we're both using this. Bring your records and we can listen to them when we're at my house, okay?" Dean asked. "Please," he begged when Castiel frowned.

With a smile and roll of his eyes, Castiel nodded. "Fine- alright."

The blond smiled triumphantly. Then he eyed the gift in Castiel's lap. "Well that just made my gift look like absolute crap," Dean murmured, seeming embarrassed.

Castiel realized with a start that he hadn't even looked at his own gift, yet. He looked down at his lap and picked up what seemed to be a generously thick book, along with a folded, big piece of paper.

Castiel read along the spine of the book. It was  _Gulliver's Travels_. Castiel smiled. "Is there a story behind this?" he asked as he unfolded the paper that came with the book, revealing it to be a map of America.

Dean blushed at Castiel's side. "Uh, yeah. Er, well, when I was younger my mom would read the book to me- well, the kid's version, anyways. Uhm, well I always really liked them, y'know? It made me want to travel, maybe take a road trip one day and go on an adventure. And when I got older I just felt like… well, I wanted to explore and travel even more. I just always really liked the idea of just driving the Impala through open roads and just seeing a bunch of things without having to worry about moving there, I guess," Dean rambled. He leaned in closer to Castiel, reaching an arm out to point at the places that seemed to be circled in red pen on the map held between Castiel's hands.

Castiel stretched out the map wider, letting Dean lean in and savoring the body heat the blond teen provided him in the cold night. "I've marked all the places I wanna visit on this map. I traced the roads and numbered the places in order of which seems coolest, and stuff. Like, if I do end up travelling I don't want it to be in any order. I just wanna drive to random places- even if they're out of the way of where I'm headed- and find these cities that I really wanna visit," Dean explained. "Anyways, well, for the longest time I wanted to do all this by myself… I mean, I always wanted to bring Sammy along, but he just seems like he has his life so set, you know? I didn't want to drag him into this, it'd be too messy. He hates travelling, anyways. So I kinda told myself it'd just be something I'd do on my own.… Well, I guess I realized I  _don't_  want to do this on my own. I just… well, I thought it'd be really fun to take you along, one day. I mean, I know you're really smart and you're probably gonna land yourself in Harvard or something and then you'll have to move away, but… I don't know, I just think it'd be the most fun with you," Dean admitted, looking up at Castiel for the first time, now.

Castiel gazed at Dean, his mouth slightly agape with the shock of Dean's words. Dean blushed, ducking his head and looking away. "I mean, you don't have to. I probably won't even be able to do this, but it's just kind of a dream I always had," Dean explained.

Castiel licked his dry lips, looking back at the map and smiling. "It sounds amazing… Dean, honestly, this is... I'd love to join you," Castiel replied, looking at Dean with a bright grin. "Thank you… for letting me a part of this… I just," Castiel fingered the map, tracing the routes Dean had drawn. "Wow."

Dean was definitely blushing, Castiel noted, under the dim streetlights that dotted Castiel's neighborhood. "I'm glad you like it. You haven't read the book, right?" Dean asked.

Castiel smiled, shaking his head no as he observed the cover of the paperback. "No, I have not."

Dean smiled at that. "Good, yeah, I noticed it wasn't on your bookshelf," Dean noted. "Well, anyways, there you go, I guess," Dean spoke as he leaned back on his arms, looking up at the sky.

Castiel looked up, as well, noticing that the sky was dotted with hundreds of stars. "I'm being honest, by the way," Castiel murmured after a couple of minutes. "I'd love to travel with you."

Dean smiled softly to himself. "Yeah, well, who knows. Maybe we will."

It was silent, and Dean's leg was still resting comfortably against Castiel's as they gazed at the night sky.

"Merry Christmas, Cas," Dean spoke softly, his voice challenging Castiel to tell him that Christmas was yesterday.

And Castiel laughed lightly, fingers running absentmindedly over the map in his hands as he counted stars.

It was a very Merry Christmas, indeed.


	19. A New Year

Meg and Castiel were growing closer. During their breaks at work, Castiel found that he was starting to spend less time with Jo and Ash, and a lot more with the dark-haired girl. In the amount of time that he knew her, Castiel found out that Meg was a sophomore in highschool, just one year younger than him. He learned that Meg hated chocolate but loved sour candy, and by the end of their discussion on that topic, they both agreed that Twizzlers were absolute crap and should be banned from all stores.

But, other than that, Castiel realized he had a lot in common with Meg.

They both lost their mother's, and they talked briefly about that before Castiel had ended the conversation, not wanting to pursue it further.

Meg also had siblings who no longer lived at home (she was the youngest, just like Castiel), and Castiel felt pure joy at the fact that he could relate to someone so easily. He talked animatedly with Meg, their topics covering basically anything and everything. They'd chat in between waiting on customers, and then later on in the day when they'd do dishes.

Castiel found out that Meg's nickname for him (Clarence) was from a movie (and book) called "It's a Wonderful Life", and before he knew it he had agreed to going over to Meg's house to see it sometime soon. The thought made his heart leap, and he realized that he had really taken a liking to Meg.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Being infatuated with Dean was heartbreaking enough. Could Castiel stand falling for two different people? But Dean and Meg were just… their situations weren't the same.

Dean was basically like an expensive want that Castiel would never be able to afford (or even be good enough to buy).

Meg was different.

Meg returned Castiel's flirtation without any sign of suddenly taking it away. Slowly but surely, Castiel realized that Meg was a more practical choice for him- that she wouldn't break his heart or keep him wondering. Despite her tough appearance, Meg was very kind.

Dean almost automatically noticed their sudden closeness.

Castiel was sitting at the bar counter with Meg, talking with her as he waited for Dean to come pick him up. They were leaned over her phone, shoulders touching as she showed him something funny she had found online.

And that's how Dean had found them, laughing and touching and leaned in very close to one another. When Castiel looked up and met Dean's eyes, he had to stop himself from pulling away from Meg too fast, moving slowly away and giving Dean a smile, which he hesitantly returned.

"I have to go," Castiel told Meg, giving her a smile as he stood up and slid his jacket on.

Meg smiled back. "I'll text you later," she promised.

Feeling his heart flutter, Castiel lingered by her for a bit, smiling in a dazed sort of manner. "And I will respond," he replied.

Meg laughed, looking over at Dean. "Well, go ahead. Your boyfriend is waiting for you," Meg told him with a sly smile.

Castiel didn't know how to respond to that, so he just gave her a wave before walking over to where Dean was standing by the door. Dean didn't have work that day, so he had spent his afternoon with Pam. Castiel almost forgot about his jealousy until he spotted a smear oflipstick on Dean's neck, barely visible from under the collar of his jacket.

His stomach burned with envy.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel spoke with an even smile, trying to ease the tension between them. "How was your date?" he asked as they walked out the door to the Impala.

Dean gave Castiel a smile in return, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It was nice. Uh, how's Meg doing?" Dean asked, eyeing Cas as they climbed into the car.

Castiel observed Dean's face, noticing that the blond was purposefully avoiding Cas's eyes, his hand working on starting up the car.

"She's doing well," Castiel informed, looking out the window as they started to drive.

It was silent.

"So are you and Meg, like…" Dean made a hand gesture, flicking his hand to nothing really. "A thing?" he asked, looking at Castiel before looking away.

Castiel blushed, looking down at the floor of the Impala. "Uh, no, I don't think so. Well, not yet, I suppose."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, seeming more intrigued than he probably should be.

"Er, well, we are planning to see a movie at her house, if that counts as anything," Castiel admitted. He didn't want to tell, but the angrier part of him took control. He was tired of being jealous. He wanted Dean to know that he wasn't pining over him. Well, he  _was,_ but he was trying really  _really_  hard not to. _  
_

Dean's jaw stiffened, and Castiel felt hopelessly confused. Why did he care? Dean was straight- he was the one that went after Pamela. Castiel had thought that he and Dean had something, but they didn't. Dean made that very clear with the numerous amount of dates he and Pamela went on.

And Castiel was just so sick of wishing things were different.

He liked Meg, and he was going to go for her. He was going to force himself to  _get over Dean._

Dean finally gave a smile, glancing at Castiel, quick. "I'm happy for you, Cas," he told him.

Castiel couldn't help the way his heart sank.

_Tell me you don't want me to find other people._

_Tell me that you want me to be yours._

_For God's sake just please don't tell me that there was nothing there._

But Dean didn't say any of those things, and Castiel knew he wouldn't. He knew that all the things he had felt between Dean and him had been due to Castiel's imagination and lack of experience with making friends.

Dean was just kind. He was just a good friend.

A friend… that and nothing more.

* * *

After dropping off Castiel home, Dean went straight back to Pamela's house, calling her while he drove. His hands were shaky as he dialed the number, his heart hammering and jealousy in his veins. He needed a distraction. He needed to stop wanting Castiel.

After a few rings, Pamela picked up.

"Dean?" she asked, her voice seeming sleepy. Dean suddenly realized it was eleven, but he couldn't go home. He couldn't stay up all night with Castiel in his head.

"Hey, Pam. You mind if I drop by for a bit?" Dean asked, his heart pounding in his chest and body feeling like it might explode any minute.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Is everything alright?" she spoke, seeming more awake, now.

"Yeah… yeah, everything is fine. I just wanna see you," he told her, knowing he must sound ridiculous. He had just dropped her off home an hour ago.

"Alright, see you," Pamela told him, her voice sounding concerned.

And in five minutes, Dean was parked in Pamela's driveway and walking to the front door.

She opened the door before he could knock, and as she was about to speak Dean pulled her close, arms tight around her waist as he merged their bodies, kissing her like there was no tomorrow.

Pamela was shocked, but she kissed him back, twining her arms around his neck as she let him nibble on her lips and trail his kisses downwards, ghosting his lips against her jaw and then onto her neck where he sucked greedily, licking gently at the smooth skin there before he kissed harder.

"Dean-  _Dean_ ," Pamela spoke, easing him slightly away but keeping a grip on Dean's arm. "Inside," she told him, her blue eyes looking into Dean's. The curiosity faded away from her face and was replaced with lust as she held his hand and brought him into the house. As soon as she closed the door, Dean resumed their kissing, and Pamela laughed against his lips. "Up for another round, already?" she asked, her voice smooth and teasing as she led him to her room, parting their lips yet again. Dean didn't know how to respond, so he stayed silent and only kissed her in response after she closed and locked the door to her room.

Dean shucked off his jacket and button-up, not parting their lips for a minute as Pamela pulled him to her bed. The room was only lit by a bedside lamp, the yellow light casting shadows and filling the room with warmth. As they climbed onto the bed, Dean let Pamela pause their kissing for a second as she stripped off his shirt, and then they were back at it, lips locked like it was the only thing they knew how to do. Dean laid Pamela down, fitting easily between her legs as he ground them together, desperate for touch- desperate for a distraction. Not even a minute later, Dean had stripped Pam of her nightshirt and was now roaming his hands over her chest- skimming his palms over her breasts and gently moving his fingers, driving out wanton moans from her. Hands grasped at Dean's bare arms, nails digging into him as Dean kissed a hungry trail down Pamela's throat, tongue licking and claiming greedily.

Clothes were stripped and words were hushed yet filled with need. Limbs tangled and messy kisses were exchanged. Fingers pressed into skin and teeth bit into lips, leaving bruises and red, swollen marks. It was the most intense sex Dean had ever had, and the image of Castiel leaning towards Meg, that  _stupid fucking smile on his face_ , was what fueled him through it, making him grunt and bruise and claim.

Castiel liked Meg. He was going to be with Meg and Dean just could not find it in him to tell Castiel he shouldn't.

Dean was the one that dated, first.

Dean was the one that made it clear he and Castiel wouldn't be together.

Dean was the  _stupid,_ obsessive, and hopeless bastard that wouldn't try and get what he truly wanted.

And Dean felt rage tickle at his throat, his eyes burning as he thought of Castiel kissing Meg and touching her and  _smiling at her._ He wouldn't be able to bare it. Dean would never be able to watch Castiel touch someone else like that. God damnit,  _Dean wanted to be with Castiel._  If he were to see Meg kissing Cas and holding him, Dean might go through a fucking breakdown. This just couldn't be happening.

Dean realized now that he could never stop wanting Castiel. No matter how many girls he dated, Castiel would always be the only one for him.

But he just  _couldn't do it._

He would not be able to live with himself if Castiel said no. And even if Castiel said yes, Dean couldn't completely ignore the standards his father had set for him. John was barely around, but he made it clear what he expected from his son. Dean couldn't do this to him. He was the oldest, he needed to be the one to please his father. He was already enough of a disappointment- he wasn't as smart as Sam or as talented. He had to work constantly to keep his B+ average, and even that wasn't good enough when Sammy would come home with all A's, their father smiling and congratulating him happily. Dean needed to put in twice the effort just to keep his father proud of him. What would John do once he came back and found out that in the short amount of time he was gone, Dean had turned gay?

He just wouldn't take it well.

And Castiel wouldn't want to be with Dean. There was no way. Even if he did, he wouldn't know what he was getting himself into. Castiel deserved better, he deserved someone who wouldn't freak out halfway through their relationship and leave him. He deserved someone who would always be there to make him laugh and smile. He deserved someone as smart and kind and fucking beautiful as him. Everyone that got to know Castiel loved him. Dean just made a lot of friends at school by pretending to be someone he's not. Castiel was good-natured, and he was so true and honest and amazing. Dean didn't deserve him.

There was also the fact that Dean was always moving. He would not be able to always be with Cas if they ended up being together. And Dean just couldn't find it in his heart to allow himself to be that selfish- to have Castiel, but only for a little while. He just couldn't do that to him (or himself, even).

So Dean kept that in mind as he grasped onto Pamela like a lifeline, their bodies merging savagely and lips parting now as climax approached.

And Dean came with a cry of a name on his lips.

Yet, it was not the name that he should have spoken.

And as Dean and Pamela both laid side by side, well spent and exhausted, she was not angry. In fact, she laughed in an amused sort of manner.

"Who's Cas?" she asked, smiling as she turned to look at Dean.

He was blushing profusely, more from embarrassment rather than exertion. "Pam, I'm so sorry," he whispered, suddenly feeling like complete and utter shit.

She still wasn't angry, though, and Dean was just waiting for her to scream and kick him out and tell him never to talk to her, again. Why the fuck wasn't she furious? "He must be pretty damn special," Pamela noted with a smirk when Dean turned around to gawk at her.

"How did you-"

"Darlin', no matter how much I might tease you, you happen to be one hell of a sight for sore eyes," Pamela spoke, slightly out of breath as she tried to come down from their rigorous activity. "I can hardly believe that any girl would be difficult for you to get. Now, who is he?" she asked.

Dean's mouth went dry, and he felt his heart ache. How did they manage to go from sex to talking about Dean's feelings? "No one. It's no one."

Pamela rolled her eyes, slapping Dean's arm. "Don't lie to me, Dean," she warned him. "No way that you can moan someone else's name during sex and then go on tellin' me it isn't anyone."

Dean was far more embarrassed than he could ever remember being. He sat up and sighed, leaning forward as he rested his arms on his legs. "It doesn't matter. It's never gonna happen, so it doesn't matter who it is," Dean spoke roughly.

It was silent for a moment. Then Pamela spoke. "Well it sure as hell ain't gonna happen if you don't try," she chided.

And Dean found that he had no response to that, either.

* * *

Castiel went to Charlie's house early on the last day of December to help her prepare for the party. She hadn't expected him to come over, so when she opened the door and saw him, Castiel noticed that her hair was a mess and she had an excessive amount of decorations slung over her shoulders and bunched up in her hands.

" _Cas?_ " she exclaimed, eyes wide. "Oh, crap, what time is it?" she asked, fumbling with the decorations to check her watch. "You're really early-"

"I wanted to help," Castiel said with a smile. Charlie seemed to exhale a breath of relief.

"Oh thank  _God_. I thought I was going to go mad, there's so much I still need to do," she babbled, opening the door wider to let Castiel in.

Castiel walked inside, taking all the decorations from Charlie's arms. "Where should we start?" he asked with a smile, and Charlie returned the smile, running a hand through her hair.

"In the basement. Here, let me get some thumbtacks."

After a few hours, the basement was bedazzled with food, drinks, and decorations. Castiel had hung up most of the decorations under Charlie's instruction. She had explained how she couldn't reach where she wanted to hang them, even with the assistance of a ladder. Castiel got it done exactly how she wanted, and she rewarded him with hugs and hundreds of thank-yous. They had prepared chips into bowls and scheduled to have a pizza delivered later that night. Now Charlie and Castiel were sitting on the couch talking, dining on some Chinese food Charlie had insisted on ordering for them.

"Will Gilda be here, tonight?" Castiel asked before taking a bite of sesame chicken.

Charlie smiled wide, nodding. "Yeah, she'll be a bit late, but she's coming. By the way, how'd you get here?" Charlie asked. "I thought you were coming with Dean," she commented, twining some noodles onto the prongs of her fork.

Castiel shrugged. He didn't want to tell Charlie that he hasn't been talking to Dean much, recently. Things just seemed immensely awkward between them, and Castiel didn't want to risk fighting or intensifying the awkwardness with his friend. So he promised himself that he'd refrain from seeing Dean until the party, hoping that by then the blond would have returned to normal.

"I walked," Castiel answered.

Charlie's eyebrows furrowed. "Is everything okay between you two?" she asked.

Castiel gave her a smile. "Everything's fine. Dean's just busy, I didn't want to be a burden," Castiel lied. "So, have you got those dress pictures, yet?" Castiel asked with a playful smirk when Charlie groaned in embarrassment.

"Yes and they're  _even_   _worse_  than the ones before," she revealed as she pulled out her phone. The redhead proceeded to show Castiel pictures of the pale blue dress she was forced to wear, and they both laughed about it, Castiel comforting Charlie of her mind-scarring experience.

Pretty soon, people started coming over. It was eight o'clock when Dean got there, and he gave Castiel a smile from across the room before walking over to Adam to converse with him. Castiel tried to brush off the knotting of his stomach as he stuck around Jo, talking to her about random things that came to mind. Music (selected by Charlie, herself) filled the air, and the basement was dimly lit. A game of Dance Dance Revolution was set up, and everyone enthusiastically partook in that event, complimenting Charlie on her knack with preserving the "games of their childhood". Dean was actually fairly good at the game, given his immense energy and quick movements. He had managed to beat Chuck, Jo, Adam, Ash, and was now in an epic face off with Charlie.

After Dean had managed to beat her, too, he called for Castiel to come over as well, a wide smile on his face, his cheeks flushed with the workout. When Castiel refused, shaking his head no as he smiled and insisted he'd rather not, Dean came over to Castiel, grabbing his arm and giving him a smile he couldn't decline.

"C'mon, Cas," he urged, smiling wide at him as he lifted him off the couch where he had been sitting next to Gilda.

Castiel shook his head some more, getting embarrassed now. "I'm honestly no good. I'll only humiliate myself," he warned, trying not to enjoy Dean's grip too much.

"I'll go easy on ya," Dean promised with a wink. And when those green eyes looked at Castiel so pleadingly and with such an inviting aura, Castiel couldn't say no.

So with a resigned sigh, Castiel joined Dean on the sensor mats laid out in front of the TV. An upbeat song immediately started, and Castiel looked at the screen, desperately trying to keep up with the arrows that flashed in bright colors. He gathered that he looked rather foolish, because there was plenty of good-natured laughs around him as he scored horribly.

After a couple of humiliating minutes, Castiel lost against Dean. There was honestly no shock to that, and Castiel had sighed in relief when the game was over, a smile on his face. Castiel thought he'd end up embarrassed, but instead he began laughing uncontrollably at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole game. Confused but smiling, Dean laughed as well, slinging an arm around Castiel and leading him to the couch where they sat down with a heavy thud.

"That was pretty impressive," Dean complimented sarcastically through fits of laughter.

Castiel was still smiling wide as he poked Dean in his side. "Not all of us can be a dancing queen," Castiel joked, making Charlie snort and everyone else burst into laughter.

Dean gawked. Then he burst out laughing with the others. "I regret letting you watch 'Mamma Mia'," Dean joked, elbowing Castiel's arm.

Castiel only smiled, reclining into his seat. Dean was warm and sweaty beside him from the many nonstop rounds he went dancing, and Castiel found that he enjoyed the redness of Dean's cheeks and the liveliness in his eyes. He was as energetic as a child, and the pure happiness he emitted made all of Cas's worries melt away.

Soon Charlie brought them a couple of beers, and this time Castiel drank it slowly, trying not to recoil and learning to adjust himself to the taste. A couple bottles later it wasn't as bad, and Castiel was actually beginning to enjoy the light feeling it gave him. He sat down next to Dean, their sides pressed together as Charlie and Gilda joined them on the couch. Castiel was thankful for the tight squeeze, because that meant he got to feel Dean's complete warmth against him- the slightest movement of his arm and the pattern of his breathing.

When it was eleven, the group all gathered sparklers, fireworks, and some drinks to bring to a hill at a park over in the next neighborhood. Charlie had apparently claimed the hill just for them so they could set off fireworks and watch fireworks that others would set off. It was an area mostly concealed by a forest, so they were all safe to do as they please.

So they all began their trek, Castiel walking alongside Dean in the cold of the night, Charlie leading the way for everyone. It wasn't too far a walk, but they were well away from Charlie's house. Castiel had offered to carry some fireworks, and he had them tucked under his arm as he talked to Dean about a party Sam was at, tonight.

"He's at this girl's party and then he's gonna be spending the night at Andy's place. Do you remember Jess? From the movie marathon over Thanksgiving?" Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow at his friend.

Castiel feigned a thoughtful face. Of course he remembered Jessica. And last he saw of the two, they seemed to have connected well during the movie marathon. Castiel wondered how Sam was doing with Jessica. He'd have to ask, soon. "Jess… the blond one, right?" Castiel asked with innocently raised eyebrows.

Dean smirked. "Yeah. I'm not sure, but I think Sammy likes her. Well, actually, I'm pretty sure," Dean spoke with a cheeky, adorably proud smile.

Castiel returned the smile. "I'm happy for him. We both know he deserves to relax himself a bit," Castiel spoke. Dean nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. I just wish he'd tell me about it. I mean, I guess I know why he'd keep it secret. But, I don't know, I just want him to feel alright with tellin' me stuff like that," Dean began. "He seemed so secretive when he had me drive him there," the blond noted.

Castiel nudged Dean, comfortingly. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. I'm sure Sam will tell you once he knows it's for certain."

Dean smiled slightly at that. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he admitted. "I just feel like I haven't been paying much attention to him. Things have been so hectic," Dean revealed.

Castiel gave his friend a smile. "You're doing great, Dean. Sam is happy, I can assure you," Castiel promised.

The look Dean gave him was one Castiel would never forget.

Pretty soon the group had made it to the park and up the hill. It wasn't too tall, so the teens did not have any trouble climbing up it and setting up their things with enough time to waste before midnight hit. Castiel realized halfway up the hill that he had forgotten his jacket at Charlie's house, and the immense cold of the night hit him hard. He sucked it up though, not wanting to head back and miss the spectacle.

Castiel amused himself with the sparklers, taking plenty of pictures with everyone. He couldn't even recall the numerous amounts of "selfies" he and Jo had taken, and in most of them the flash of Jo's phone made their eyes squinty, flaunting their red noses and cheeks. The rest of Cas and Jo's horrible pictures consisted of silly faces. Jo had taken plenty of pictures of Cas and Dean also, and Castiel tried not to smile too wide at the fact that Dean's arm was tight around Castiel's waist in most of them.

And when the sparklers ran out, everyone drank some beer and wine coolers as they looked through the photos they had taken, laughing hysterically at the horrible ones. There was one particular photo of Adam, Chuck and Castiel that was almost terrifyingly hilarious. Both Castiel and Adam's eyes had been bright white and blue, almost glowing from the intensity of the flash. Chuck's had been almost a strange golden color. They earned themselves plenty of 'holy angel' jokes as they tried to blink spots out of their vision. Ash later on declared jokingly that Chuck was God.

It was the first time Castiel had ever gotten properly drunk. He had to admit, he liked the feeling a lot more than he thought he would. It was fun to feel this loose with his closest friends, taking pictures and laughing at things that weren't all that funny. There were plenty of reddened lips and goofy expressions in the pictures they took that flaunted the festivities everyone partook in.

Originally, Castiel had been frightened that they'd get caught drinking. He later on realized that Charlie had chosen this spot quite wisely, planning it so that nobody would see them. Castiel hadn't seen one car or person since the group left Charlie's house. The hill was abandoned, and it was almost secluded in its spot. So, with the reassurance that Charlie had taken precaution embedded in Castiel's mind, he allowed himself to wind down.

Pretty soon everyone had calmed and were now all talking among themselves as they waited to launch the fireworks. Ash and Chuck were setting up their fireworks, and Castiel was sitting by himself as he watched them stumble with setting up the explosives. He mentally prayed for them to know what they were doing.

The next thing Castiel knew, someone had settled down at his right, a bottle of raspberry lemonade wine cooler being handed to him.

Castiel smiled, knowing instantly who it was before he turned to face Dean. "Thank you," he spoke as he accepted the bottle. Dean had a wide grin on his face, and he leaned forward, watching Ash and Chuck.

"No problem," Dean spoke before taking a swig from his bottle.

Castiel was fighting back shivers, clenching his jaw to prevent his teeth from chattering. He gazed at Dean in the dark of the night, using the moon's dull white light to grant Castiel the gift of observing Dean's angelic features. Dean looked calm and resolved, and truly happy. His eyes were softened, reflecting the light of the moon, and a soft smile was on Dean's lips. Castiel suddenly wondered what Dean was thinking about, and he felt his gut burn when he realized that it was probably Pamela.

Suddenly, Dean looked over at Castiel, catching him in his gazing. Their eyes locked for an eerie amount of time- it must have been thirty seconds, at least. It seemed natural and calming, though. Searching through Dean's eyes and speaking to him through their gaze seemed almost normal. When they broke it, Dean looked Castiel up and down before looking into his eyes again. The blond finally spoke.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked, his voice neutral but still containing an undertone of concern that Castiel learned to detect.

Castiel shrugged, trying to unlock his arms from around himself, but finding he was unable to. "I forgot my j-jacket at Charlie's," Castiel spoke, his voice stiff from trying to keep his jaw from shaking. The dark-haired teen mentally slapped himself for stuttering, but it was already very hard to prevent his teeth from chattering when he wasn't doing anything, let alone trying to speak. The muscles in his face were tightened, seeming to spasm on their own, no matter what Castiel tried to do about it.

Dean's eyes seemed worried, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked Castiel up and down, again, seeming to debate with himself. The next thing Castiel knew, Dean's face had gone strangely decided. He suddenly put down his bottle next to him and was shrugging off his jacket, the thick blue cargo one. In less than a second, Dean was handing it to Castiel. "Here," he spoke, offering it kindly.

Castiel's couldn't help but let his eyes widen. "Dean, no, it's fine. I'm alright, it's-" he tried to protest.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Just take it, Cas. Don't make me force it on you," Dean warned.

Blushing, Castiel looked from the jacket back to Dean, who seemed to be trying not to look into Castiel's eyes. He decided it'd be best not to speak as he accepted the jacket, putting down his own bottle and sliding on the warm material. He was shivering freely now with the sudden body heat change. "T-thanks," Castiel stuttered, wrapping his arms around himself. He felt slightly dizzy, and whether it was from the alcohol or the scent on Dean's jacket, Castiel had no idea. Maybe it was both.

Dean smiled, picking up his bottle again as he took another sip. "No problem," he replied. When Castiel let out a violent shiver, Dean looked concerned and slightly amused. "Jesus, you're gonna get yourself killed one day," he joked.

Castiel laughed, the action sounding pathetically weak and breathless. "N-not when I've got you around," Castiel pointed out.

Dean smiled wider as he glanced at his friend, then over at Ash and Chuck. "Yeah, that's true."

Castiel looked over at Dean, again, observing him. He almost instantly noticed the goosebumps that rose on Dean's arms. "Won't you get cold?" Castiel asked, suddenly feeling awful. He should've brought his own jacket.

Dean waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, I'm still warm from all that DDR. It's all good, don't worry," Dean assured.

Eyeing his friend warily, Castiel nodded. He wanted to return the jacket, but he found that a huge part of him strongly yet secretly protested against that action. Castiel was freezing, and Dean's jacket was more than warm and inviting.

It was silent for a moment.

"What's your New Year's resolution?" Dean asked suddenly, glancing at his friend.

Castiel was struck speechless at the question. He honestly hadn't given it much thought. So he pursed his lips as he picked up his bottle (now that his fingers were capable of moving). "I'm not sure. I would like to change who I am," Castiel mused. "Well, I am completely different than I was last year. But… I'd like to make myself a better person. I want to go through life knowing that there's something worth it, rather than just going through the motions to please my father. I want to focus on myself, more," Castiel admitted, blushing at the honesty of his statement.

But Dean only smiled, no judgement showing on his face. "I think that's a great idea," Dean assured. "Just… don't change too much, alright? I'm all for you focusing on what you want, and growing positively, but other than that…" Dean shrugged. "You're great how you are... just don't change," Dean repeated. He seemed as if he wanted to say so much more, but he didn't.

Castiel felt his body warm, despite the biting cold of the air around him. He smiled, his heart fluttering to his throat with happiness. "Thank you," Castiel spoke softly, looking away from his friend and down at the bottle in his hand as he tried to stop himself from smiling. "How about you?" Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged. "I want to be more honest," he spoke simply. The words seemed to hold some deeper meaning, and Castiel gazed at Dean, waiting for him to explain himself.

When he didn't, Castiel spoke. "I think you're very honest, Dean," Castiel protested.

The blonde smiled bitterly. "Yeah, not as much as you'd think. I swerve around situations that would get me to tell what I'm really thinking. I just wanna be honest to myself, and… I don't know, everyone, I guess."

Castiel was confused, but he nodded. "That's a nice thing to work on," he commented, looking up at the moon.

It was silent, again. Castiel listened to the light conversation around him, slowly relaxing despite the frigid air that enveloped the night.

"Cas?" Dean inquired, his voice small and hesitant.

Castiel looked over at Dean. The blond looked into Castiel's eyes, then shied away, looking at his jeans as his fingers fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Castiel suddenly felt worried as he sat up straighter, staring at Dean intently. "Is something wrong?" Castiel asked, eyebrows furrowed with apprehension.

Dean seemed to curl into himself slightly, trying to look small. "Uh, no, nothing's wrong. I- uh, just wanted to tell you something," Dean began.

When he didn't continue, Castiel urged him on. "Tell me what?" he asked.

Dean licked his lips, his fingers fiddling restlessly with his shirt. "Uhm, well, I acutally- uh, I kinda wanted to say this for a while," Dean admitted, looking nervous. "Uh, but I'm not really sure how to-"

"T-minus ten seconds, everyone!" Charlie called out, interrupting Dean from what he was about to say.

Instantly, everyone began counting down as Chuck and Ash prepared a match to light the fireworks. Castiel wanted desperately to know what Dean wanted to say- he had looked so dismayed when he had been interrupted. But, when the blond teen didn't show any sign of continuing, Castiel resignedly joined everyone in their countdown.

The firework show was brilliant, and (thankfully) there were no injuries. Castiel watched as the colored sparks of light filled the sky, and he found that he was leaning into Dean as he watched the spectacle. Dean didn't move, so Castiel decided that it was alright. He was probably grateful for the body heat, since Castiel had taken his jacket.

After a moment, Dean returned the gesture, leaning back into Castiel with a little more force than Castiel had done, and making his heart leap with surprise. He tried to ignore the intimate act, telling himself that it was just cold and they were keeping one another warm.

But, well, when Castiel was as head over heels for Dean as he was, it was hard to ignore the flutter of hope he felt.

So Castiel tamed the pounding of his heart and the heat in the pit of his belly, and instead embedded the feel of Dean into his memory. He took note of everything- the smoothness of the cold glass bottle in his hand (raspberry lemonade, just like Dean had given him all those weeks ago), the press of Dean's arm and side and leg, the way Dean's arm was propped behind him, positioned behind Castiel, the smell and fabric of Dean's warm jacket and how dizzy he felt when he'd shift slightly and be overcome with the scent of Dean's Impala and cologne and shampoo.

He kept it all in mind as he watched the last of Chuck and Ash's fireworks burst in the sky. The show didn't end there, though, because hundreds of fireworks from all around flew into the air, as well, determined to give the group of teens a longer show.

And Castiel was content with that. The longer he could spend next to Dean like this, the better.

Charlie and Gilda kissed as the fireworks went off, and Castiel smiled to himself, happy for his friends. He also happened to notice that Adam and Jo had been sitting together throughout the spectacle, and he raised an eyebrow as he realized that those two had been around each other all night.

"Dean," Castiel commented, speaking low so that only he could hear.

Dean suddenly looked at Castiel's face, seeming as if Castiel had interrupted him from deep thinking. "Yeah?" Dean asked, searching Castiel's eyes intently.

Castiel nodded his head over to Jo and Adam, noticing that the two almost looked to be holding hands subtly. "Did you notice…" Castiel began, looking back over at Dean and raising an eyebrow.

A bright smile instantly overtook Dean's features, an astonished laugh escaping him. "Well, I'll be damned. I didn't see that one coming," Dean admitted, sitting up straighter, the action moving him away from Castiel slightly.

Castiel laughed, as well. "When do you think they'll tell us?" Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged, still smiling as he gazed at Jo, happily, almost like an older brother would look at his younger sister. "I don't know. Soon, probably. I mean, they won't be able to keep it secret for long."

Castiel nodded. "I wonder how long it's been going on," he mused.

Dean shrugged, again. "I dunno. Probably not too long," he commented before looking up at the fireworks that still lit the sky.

Suddenly, Castiel remembered that Dean had been interrupted earlier. "Dean, what was it you wanted to tell me?" Castiel asked before he could convince himself not to say anything about it.

Dean suddenly tensed, looking at Castiel in a startled manner before looking away. "Uh," he began, flustered. He seemed to think to himself for a bit before he relaxed and spoke. "I was just gonna say thanks for giving me a chance back when we first met," Dean spoke. "I know I wasn't that great to you at first- I mean, with hanging out with Alastair and all- but I'm glad you let me get to know you," Dean spoke, smiling.

Castiel blinked, not sure what to say. "I…" he managed, shaking his head. "That's not true- you were never bad to me," he protested. "You've done so much for me, and Alastair doesn't ruin that fact.  _I_  should be thanking  _you_ ," Castiel added with a smile that made Dean the speechless one.

He suddenly smiled back, looking up at the last of the fireworks. Dean let their arms touch, again, as he watched the fireworks. Castiel gazed at Dean's face, highlighted by reds and blues and greens. When he was beginning to think Dean wouldn't respond, the blond spoke.

"This is gonna sound cheesy as hell, but I'm really glad I met you. All of you guys," Dean admitted. He didn't look at Castiel, but the blue-eyed teen noticed Dean's thoughtful face. "I never really had any friends, before. I'd move too much, so I never really tried, y'know? You're actually the first person I can call my friend."

Castiel smiled wide, proud of being so close to Dean. It felt like an accomplishment- to be the best friend of someone so amazing and brilliant. "Same goes for you," Castiel replied, eyes meeting Dean's when he turned to look at Castiel. The dark-haired teen smiled, again, and Dean returned it.

The rest of the firework show commenced in a comfortable silence, mind the explosions of color in the sky.

* * *

Dean had almost told Castiel his true feelings.

He had prepared himself for it, gathering up all his courage and realizing that tonight was the best night to do it. They were alone (mostly), it was dark and Castiel was wearing Dean's jacket and the moon made his blue eyes glow so fucking beautifully and they were so close to each other and everything was just perfect. It was going to be a new year, and Dean had told Castiel how he wanted to be more truthful and honest and  _damnit_ , why did midnight have to come right at that moment?

As soon as everyone began counting down and lighting fireworks, Dean had felt all the courage he had summoned suddenly disappear, as if it were never there in the first place. It was an awful feeling, and Dean automatically felt discouraged.

What was he thinking?

He could have ruined everything.

He could have lost Castiel that night just because he couldn't contain how much he wants to fucking be with him.

Dean would need to be more careful.

But now nothing was stopping him from wanting to tell. Pamela and Dean had mutually broken up, agreeing with one another that their relationship had ended up being more physical than anything else. Pamela still texted Dean to check up on him, and that made him feel a lot better about being a complete dick and basically using her the other night. She was the one that had urged Dean to tell Cas how he felt.

And when Castiel had asked Dean what he was going to say, Dean completely chickened out.

His heart had been hammering when he was about to tell him. He felt nauseous and sick and it felt as though giant butterflies were fluttering inside him, lifting his heart up to his tightened throat. It was downright scary- probably the scariest thing he'd ever had to do.

And it ended up being for nothing.

Dean was cold almost five minutes after giving Castiel his jacket, but he didn't say anything. It just looked  _so_   _nice_ on Castiel, Dean didn't want him to take it off. And when Castiel had leaned against Dean, the blond almost found the courage to try and tell Castiel, again. But, instead, he leaned back into his friend, savoring the warmth and smell of Castiel. He had grown so accustomed to it- the smell was almost embedded in his brain. It was a calming yet dizzying scent that Dean had become addicted to.

Dean had hoped Castiel would never take off Dean's jacket. And, when they all got back to Charlie's house, he didn't. That had made Dean's heart flutter pathetically. And the "eyebrow-raised with a side of smirking" look Jo gave him didn't help, much.

Jo had admitted to Dean that she and Adam were dating.

They were side by side preparing some finger foods and sandwiches in Charlie's kitchen when Jo told him, a bright smile on her face. Dean had laughed and hugged her, congratulating her with a smile on his face. Adam was a really nice guy, and Dean knew he'd be good to Jo. She explained how he had asked her out a couple of days ago.

Then the topic of Castiel had come up.

"So I noticed you and Cas were pretty lovey dovey back at the hill," Jo noted, smiling. "Did you tell him?" she asked.

Dean felt his face burn up with embarrassment. "Uh, no. I didn't," Dean informed her, working on preparing sandwiches.

Jo's jaw dropped, and her eyes widened. " _What?_ Why?" she asked, astounded. Then she put her hands on her hips. "Is it because you're still dating Pamela?" she accused.

Dean rolled his eyes, the task of sandwich-making completely forgotten. "No, Jo. We- uh, we broke up," he told her. "A while ago, actually."

Jo looked even more astounded than before. "Why did you break up?" she asked, honestly curious.

Dean blushed. "Uh, well… I'd rather not talk about it," he murmured.

"Dean," Jo spoke suspiciously. "What did you do?"

If it were possible for him to get redder, he did. "Uh, well… I kinda- uh… said Cas's name during sex," Dean admitted fast, looking away from Jo as he worked busily on the sandwiches.

He could almost hear Jo's jaw drop and eyes widen. " _Dean, oh my God!_ " she exclaimed. "Holy shit- what did she say? What did she  _do?_ "

Dean felt hot- like he wanted to jump in a pool of ice water. "Uh- well, it kinda happened at… the end… like,  _the end,_ " Dean hinted. When Jo snorted, he gathered that she understood. "Pam actually… she wasn't mad. She actually laughed. And, well, she's been encouraging me to ask Cas out," Dean admitted. It felt good to tell Jo all of this- the events that had occurred recently had been almost overwhelming.

Jo suddenly laughed. "Okay- I'm sorry- but you said Cas's name when you  _came?_ " Jo asked, still thoroughly amused by that bit of information.

Dean blushed, rolling his eyes. "That's not the freaking point, Jo," Dean snapped.

"Alright, alright- sorry," Jo spoke, lifting her hands as she smiled. "It's just news to me," Jo defended. "Alright- so getting back to Cas- why didn't you ask him out tonight?" Jo asked, getting serious, again. "I mean, it seemed like… I don't know, like you two were already together. I thought..." Jo trailed off with a shrug.

Dean took a deep breath. "I was going to. I even started to. But then the whole countdown thing happened when I was about to say it and afterwards when Castiel asked what I was going to say I chickened out. I just- I can't do it, Jo," Dean admitted, distressed. He felt like complete crap, his shoulders slumped and arms at his sides, palms facing forward as if awaiting a miracle.

Jo actually seemed sympathetic as she looked at Dean. "You have to  _try_ ," she told him, eyebrows furrowed desperately.

"But what if he doesn't feel the same?" Dean asked, wanting to slap himself at how pathetic he sounded. "What the hell will I do, then?"

Jo sighed. "Dean, I honestly doubt he doesn't like you," she told him. When Dean still looked dismayed, she continued. "If you want I could ask him? And find out if it's mutual?"

Dean shook his head. "No, that's- don't. If I'm going to do this it's going to be me," Dean told her.

Jo gave him a smile. "I know he'll say yes, Dean. I promise you he will."

Not knowing how to respond, Dean just continued preparing food. When it was ready, Dean and Jo made their way to Charlie's basement.

The rest of the night went smoothly. Castiel seemed exhausted, but when he caught sight of Dean his eyes brightened, alcohol-reddened lips stretching into a smile. Dean had returned the smile, unable to contain himself. They ended up sitting together, dining on some sandwiches and water (Dean didn't want Castiel's hangover to be too bad). Everyone was still pretty drunk, and they all agreed to lay off the drinks for the rest of the night.

Once it reached two in the morning, Castiel had fallen asleep at Dean's side. The rest of the group was fast asleep, as well. Suddenly, Cas's head lolled onto Dean's shoulder, and the blond teen remained still, trying to relax his shoulder to make it as comfortable as possible. Castiel was still wearing Dean's jacket, and for a moment it almost felt as though they really were going out.

Dean quickly corrected his fantasies. Cas was just his friend.

Well, at least for now.

Dean felt lightheaded with the thought of telling Castiel how he felt. It'd have to wait, for a bit. Dean wasn't ready- not yet. He had only recently come to terms with the fact that he liked Castiel. If he didn't ease into this, Dean would panic and ruin everything.

But he'd tell him, soon. He would definitely tell him. Who knows, maybe Castiel would say yes.  _Maybe all this worrying will be for nothing_ , Dean thought as he laid Castiel down and draped a blanket over him, positioning himself at Castiel's feet where he crossed his arms and tried to calm his frantic thoughts. He needed to do this. He needed to try. It could be possible.

Hell, it was a new year after all.


	20. Stay Away

The days came and went, and by the third of January Castiel was actually praying for school to start, again. He still had four more days to go, though, and Castiel tried not to be too upset about that thought. Dean had gone slightly distant, again, just like he always did whenever the two seem to get closer. It wasn't a bad distant, though (well, not as bad as usual). They still talked and laughed and joked but it seemed like Dean's heart wasn't in it- like he was in a different place.

And Castiel couldn't help but feel like absolute crap. He was tired of the roller coaster of emotions Dean put him through. Castiel was tired of feeling like maybe he had a chance and then having to second guess himself the next day.

It was too much for him to handle, when he was already so emotionally weak.

So Castiel just read books and worked at the diner, busying himself every second he was awake so he wouldn't have to think of Dean. He ended up going to Meg's house on the second of January, and they watched "It's A Wonderful Life". Castiel thoroughly enjoyed the movie, and it may or may not have been because of the fact that throughout most of it, Meg and Cas were holding hands, sitting close to one another on the couch of her living room. Meg's father was gone, and it had just been them in the quiet house.

They hadn't done anything, though. Meg knew that Castiel was new with this whole thing, and she seemed to respect that. It almost shocked Castiel, if he was going to be completely honest with himself. Meg had proved to be a lot more caring than she had originally led on, and Castiel soon realized that he had brought that out of her. Meg still teased and joked around with Ash and Jo, but when it came to Castiel the teasing was not nearly as intense, and she seemed to grow very fond of him.

Jo noticed and confronted Castiel about it. She didn't seem as happy for him as Castiel thought she'd be, and that confused him. But later on she had just given Castiel a smile, telling him she was happy that he was happy.

So Castiel allowed himself to slowly grow closer to Meg. His imaginary relationship with Dean was just never going to happen, and Castiel told himself that he needed to move on. Meg was his closest friend, besides Dean. Castiel ended up telling her things that Dean didn't even know. He told her a lot about his mother and his siblings and basically just anything that came to his mind. It was easy to talk to Meg, and she talked back, telling Castiel things in return.

Day by day, their bond grew closer. Soon she traded in the nickname Clarence for "Unicorn". Well, Meg still liked to call Castiel Clarence, but she had said that now that Castiel knew what it meant it wasn't as fun to say. When Castiel had scrunched up his nose at his new nickname, it sent Meg into fits of laughter. And when he asked her to explain it, she had blushed (something he'd never seen her do) and refused to tell him, later on teasing him about something trivial to change the topic of their conversation.

Castiel still felt pangs of sadness whenever he thought of Dean. He still wished (in a rather lost cause sort of manner) that Dean did have feelings for Cas. But as the days went by and the text messages and calls lessened, so did Castiel's hope.

Castiel loved being around Meg. She was kind and funny and Castiel slowly began to accept that he wouldn't mind if their friendship progressed into something more.

And that was what happened.

On the night of the third of January, Meg and Castiel were in the kitchen washing dishes after closing time. Dean was going to be picking up Castiel at eleven, where they would then go to Dean's house for a movie night, so the dark-haired teen volunteered to wash dishes with Meg to kill time. For the past few days, Castiel had been debating with himself over what he should do with his relationship with Meg. It had driven him insane until he finally decided to just let what happens happen. He wouldn't try to want or control anything, anymore. He'd just take a leap in the dark and let fate make the choices.

No matter what (or whom) it may choose.

Castiel must have been very silent, because Meg sounded concerned when she spoke to him.

"Cas?" she asked, interrupting him from his thoughts. Castiel turned to look at Meg, blue eyes meeting with dark brown ones. "You okay?" she continued, raising an eyebrow.

Castiel nodded, smiling. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm just thinking," he assured her as he finished with the last of his dishes.

"You sure? You've seemed kinda…" Meg shrugged. "Distant, or whatever," she admitted as she focused on cleaning to avoid Cas's eyes. Castiel felt a strong sensation of irony. Now he was doing to Meg what Dean had been doing to him for so long.

He wasn't going to let that happen.

"I've been thinking about us," Castiel revealed, observing the suds that covered Meg's hands as she put away the last of the dishes. He looked into Meg's eyes as she dried her hands.

Her eyebrows furrowed and she suddenly smirked. "In what way?" 

Castiel smiled, averting his gaze to the ground. "Uh- a good way, I suppose," he reassured.

Meg put her hands on her hips, the ever present smirk of amusement plastered on her lips. "Is this your way of asking me out?" she asked teasingly, making Castiel blush.

Castiel worked his bottom lips between his teeth. He tried to get the thought of Dean out of his head. He tried to tell himself that this was his chance to move on. "It is," Castiel replied, looking into Meg's eyes, again.

Meg's smirk faded away, and was replaced with a look of surprise. Suddenly, she smiled. It was a genuine smile, no teasing behind it. The brunette advanced forward slowly, and put her arms around Castiel's neck.

Castiel's heart began to race, and he gazed into Meg's eyes as she looked up at him, her smile fainter. "I accept, Unicorn," she replied smoothly, her voice alluring.

Castiel found that he couldn't reply, though. He was too focused on the closeness of Meg- the press of her arms on his neck and the warmness her body provided him. They both leaned in, and right as their lips were about to touch, Castiel pulled back slightly, a blush on his cheeks.

"Meg, I- I don't," he stuttered, not sure what to say. He wanted this, he really did. But… he just didn't know how.

Meg's eyebrows furrowed as her arms unlocked from around Castiel, her hands pressing at the back of his neck, now. "Have you never kissed someone before?" she asked. Her voice wasn't teasing, it was genuinely curious and a bit surprised.

Castiel shook his head, his heart pounding. "I haven't," he replied, his throat feeling tight. Why was he so nervous?

Meg's eyes widened slightly. "Cas, if this is going to be your first kiss, then we don't have to," Meg reassured, pulling away slightly.

"No," Castiel protested, his hands finding their way to Meg's sides. "No, I… I want to," he told her, looking from her lips back to her eyes. Did he want to?

Yes. He did. He craved the intimate touch, he needed this to happen. He needed Meg.

The brunette still seemed hesitant. "Are you sure you want me to take that from you?" she asked, but she seemed to be resolved with what  _she_  wanted, her arms twining back around Castiel's neck in a secure lock that served as a signed contract for what was to come.

Castiel nodded. "Yes. I'm sure."

Meg looked into Castiel's eyes a bit longer before her gaze moved south and she rose upward. Castiel leaned down to meet her, going by instinct.

And it happened like that. The first touch of their lips was like an electric shock to Castiel's nerves, a tingling and buzzing sensation travelling from his lips to the tips of his fingers and down to his toes. Meg's lips were soft, and they caressed Castiel gently, merging into him with a comfortable pressure. It was a nice feeling, and once it was over, Castiel leaned back in, his arms tightening around Meg's waist as he advanced, physically begging for more.

Meg gave it to him. She took in Castiel's aggression, swallowing his need with heavy, intimate kisses. They parted their lips for a breath, and then Castiel was back in, kissing Meg as if he'd die without her lips, sucking and pressing and merging. It was all awkward and inexperienced, with clinking of teeth and slips of their lips. But Castiel enjoyed it, soon getting the rhythm and kissing Meg with more practiced, circular motions.

When Meg reached out her tongue to wet Castiel's lips, Castiel did the same, deepening their kiss. It was clumsy and rushed and needy, again, but overall it was the best thing Castiel had ever experienced.

And the best part was that it drove away thoughts of Dean.

* * *

Dean greeted Jo with a rushed "hello" as he hustled into the diner, making his way over to her as he leaned against the booth she was cleaning. She had given him a smile in return as she put away her rag she was using to wipe down the table.

"D'you know where Cas is?" Dean asked as he followed her to the reception desk, looking around.

Jo raised an eyebrow, a smirk on her lips. "You going to ask him, tonight?" she countered, completely changing the subject when she noticed Dean's antsy behavior.

Dean blushed, his heart suddenly launching to his throat. "I'm planning on it," he decided to answer, telling himself that Jo already knew so it was fine to tell. It actually felt good to let the news off his chest- he'd been freaking out all day about it. He could barely focus at work and found that he was even daydreaming and worrying himself as he drove to the diner. "He's coming over for a movie… I'm gonna try, but I won't make any promises," Dean elaborated.

Jo smiled brightly, excited by the news. "I'm sure it'll go great, Dean. He's in the back- here, I'll walk you there," she insisted, knowing very well that Dean was a lot more nervous than he let on.

Dean smiled gratefully. "Thanks," he replied. They made their way to the back, making light talk about how Jo's day went. Dean's nerves began to calm right in time for when they made it to the back room and opened the door.

Then the whole world seemed to stop.

Castiel was kissing Meg.

His arms were tight around her waist and they were pressed flush against one another and Meg's hands were in Castiel's hair, bunching up the dark locks as they kissed passionately.

And Dean felt his breath catch and his knees weaken, all the blood in his body suddenly going cold.

Meg and Castiel had parted their lips with shock when Dean and Jo had walked in, placing a foot of space between them as they gazed at their intruders with shock. But Dean had seen it all. And from the silence in the room, he gathered Jo had, too.

But, bless her, Jo quickly recovered from her slack-jawed reaction, giving an awkward smile as she laughed nervously. "Were we interrupting?" she asked, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing, like it was every day when she saw the heart of Dean Winchester completely shatter at her side.

Castiel was blushing profusely, and Meg just seemed too embarrassed to answer, for once. So Castiel did the talking- or, well, stuttering.

"Uh- er, no. Sorry, we- uh, well," he stammered, looking anywhere but into his friends' eyes.

It was awkwardly silent, and Dean just prayed for this all to end. He wanted so badly to close his eyes and then open them to the darkness of his room, finding out it was all just a horrible, stupid nightmare.

But every time he blinked and returned from the red barrier of his eyelids, he was still in the kitchen of Ellen's diner, looking at Castiel and Meg, both of whom had very red lips and very messy hair.

And Dean tried not to break down right there. He tried to will his mouth to close and his stiffened body to move. Dean tried to ignore the aching pounding of his heart and the ringing in his ears. Now was not the time. Now was  _so_  not the time.

So Dean licked his lips and loosened his tense muscles, trying to seem nonchalant. He knew he had to speak. The responsibility weighed on him, and no matter how much he didn't want to, he did. "Uh, ready to go, Cas?" he asked, his voice strained.

Castiel met Dean's eyes, staring at him before he nodded and the two teens bid farewells to Jo and Meg as they walked out, leaving the thick and awkward atmosphere behind.

Dean's legs felt like lead underneath him, and it took all his effort to drag his body to the waiting Impala. Castiel was silent beside him as they walked, and Dean couldn't find it in him to make small talk. Everything just seemed so pointless, at that moment. All he wanted to do, now, was lay under the sheets of his bed and wallow in his own misery.

But Dean knew he couldn't. He'd have to pretend like everything was okay and take Castiel to his house so they could watch their movie. He'd have to ask about Meg with a smile on his face and give Castiel a pat on his back and tell him that he was happy for him. He'd have to bite his tongue and pretend it wasn't killing him when he would see Castiel and Meg together, again.

And, damnit, Dean was not strong enough for this.

There was no way he could pretend he was happy when it felt like he was dead inside.

* * *

Castiel was shocked when Dean still brought him to the condo. In the turn of events, earlier, Castiel had almost forgotten they had planned to watch a movie together.

Dean's phone had buzzed with messages throughout the drive, but Dean didn't show any sign of noticing it. The car ride was completely silent- no music or eye contact whatsoever- and Castiel couldn't help but feel as though he had done something horribly wrong.

But why would Dean be mad? What was so bad about Castiel kissing Meg? Dean had said he was happy for him all those days ago, so why was he so quiet, now?

For God's sake, wasn't Dean's New Year's Resolution to be honest?

The feel of Meg's kisses still tingled on Castiel's lips, and he couldn't help but think back to that moment in the kitchen. It had been really nice, up until the interruption. The look on Jo and Dean's faces had almost scared Castiel.

What was so wrong with him kissing Meg? Hadn't they seen it coming? Jo had certainly commented on it, as did Dean. They should have known this was going to happen, why were they so surprised? Why did they seem so shocked? Why did Jo stare at Castiel as if he had committed an unforgivable crime?

Did they not like Meg? Did they know something about her that Castiel didn't? And, if so, then why didn't they tell him in the first place?

What the hell was going on?

Dean turned to give Castiel a quick, stiff smile before opening the door to the Impala. Castiel followed suit and walked into Dean's house, trailing behind him, his eyes zeroed in on the tense stature of Dean's shoulders. The house was empty- Sam had gone over to Andy's house so Dean and Castiel were completely alone. They made their way to the living room, and Castiel couldn't help but stay frozen in the entrance of it, watching Dean as his hands shook and fumbled with a DVD, unable to get it open.

"Dean," Castiel spoke, his voice hoarse.

The blond didn't respond, still working on opening the DVD, his head bowed as his fingers became more frantic.

"Dean," Castiel called out again, louder this time. Dean didn't respond. " _Dean_ ," Castiel practically shouted, his own body tense and weak at the sight of Dean fumbling with such a simple task.

Dean threw the DVD onto the table with a loud clang that probably broke it as he turned to look at Cas, his eyes glaring and his chest puffed with rage.

" _What?_ " he snapped, voice ice cold and filled with bitterness.

Castiel realized his hands were balled into fists at his side as he remained in his spot in the doorway, looking into Dean's eyes from the large amount of space between them. "What's the matter with you?" he couldn't help but utter, his voice sad and confused and desperate.

Dean's jaw clenched visibly, and he seemed even angrier. "I think I should be asking  _you_ that," Dean replied, advancing a step but stopping in his tracks. He licked his lips and looked Castiel up and down before continuing. "Honestly, Cas, what the hell? I mean,  _Meg?_  Are you  _serious?_ " he spoke in an astonished tone.

Castiel felt rage coil within him. "You don't even know her," Castiel hissed, his eyes warning Dean not to go further.

Dean gave a bitter laugh. "Well, neither do  _you._  You've known her for, what, a fucking  _month?_ " Dean guessed. "And the next thing I know you're making out with her in a kitchen like she's your fucking long lost lover," Dean ranted.

Castiel's jaw dropped, his heart aching from Dean's words. Why was he being so mean? Castiel hadn't done anything wrong! Dean had encouraged him to go for Meg, so why the hell was he mad at Castiel for kissing her? Deciding against pointing this all out, Castiel took a deep breath before he spoke calmly.

"Meg has been kind to me, Dean. She's as close to me as you or the others are, and it doesn't matter how long I've known her. You  _know_ it doesn't matter- I've only known  _you_ for a few months," Castiel spoke logically, hoping to tame Dean's anger.

It was to no avail. Dean was still lament with rage. "What do you even see in her, anyways?" he asked, glaring. "I doubt she even cares about you- not as much as Jo or I or the others do," Dean fumed. "Just because someone is nice to you doesn't mean that you can take them to the back of a kitchen and make out with them just for the hell of it!"

Castiel felt horribly cold and sick. His heart was swelling and his throat was tight and he couldn't even remember how to speak, for a moment. All his energy was focused on not crumbling down and breaking into his approaching anxiety attack. Castiel's ears rang and his blood pounded and  _he just couldn't swallow down enough air to stop the dizziness._ "Why do you even care who I'm with?" Castiel found himself asking in a weak voice.

Dean froze, his eyes widening with shock at the question. This time, Dean didn't speak. He didn't have anything to say to that.

That's when it all hit him.

Dean  _did_ care. Dean did want to be with him- that was the only explanation for this argument. Castiel was hit so hard with this realization that he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it, before. The constant touching- the smiles and the rides to school and work, and the way Dean would always look at him and walk Castiel to class and  _it was all just so obvious._

And Dean was just speechless in front of him, his eyes going from Castiel to the floor. He didn't speak. He didn't move.

So Castiel did it for him.

He found that his body was moving itself to Dean almost robotically, as if it had a mind of its own. Castiel murmured Dean's name, trying to get him to look up when he finally reached him. And when Dean did, they were less than a few inches away from each other. Dean's eyes were soft, now, the shades of green making Castiel's heart warm. His lips were parted in shock of their sudden closeness, and Castiel found that he couldn't make himself listen to the voice in his head that told him to put five feet of space between them  _right now_. He understood everything, now, and he wanted this  _so_  bad and  _maybe Dean did, too_. Maybe this was meant to be all along.

And that's when Castiel grabbed Dean's face in his hands and kissed him.

Dean was shocked against Castiel, but after a few seconds he kissed him back, body motionless except for leaning his face to Castiel and moving his lips with slight hesitance that soon melted into acceptance.

It was different from the kiss Castiel had with Meg. As the previous one had sent a jolt of electricity, this one burned with passion and ignited Castiel all over, making his brain turn to mush and his insides melt, and  _oh God was this actually happening?_

Dean's lips molded into Castiel's perfectly, and it seemed as though they were made for each other, the sliding of their lips against one another's just too perfect, their chests molding and Dean's hands grasping tight onto Castiel's hips. And Castiel leaned in close, wanting to take as much as he could- wanting to show Dean how much he cared. He memorized every detail. He memorized the taste of Dean's lips- sweet and almost intoxicating. He memorized the little sounds their kissing would make, and the curve of Dean's lower lip as it slid between Castiel's, his tongue tracing it shyly before he pressed harder into Dean. Every sensation- every little bit that seemed so unimportant was so valuable to Castiel. It almost seemed too good to be true.

And it was.

Dean's hands were suddenly flat on Castiel's chest, pushing him away, roughly. And just like that, Dean's lips were gone and Castiel was now looking at a face of pure fear and confusion, green eyes wide and kiss-slick mouth agape. All at once, Castiel's world seemed to shatter around him- the ground crumbling to nothing underneath his feet.

" _What the hell-_ " Dean exclaimed, taking a step back and staring at Castiel almost accusingly as he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.

Castiel's throat went dry, shock stilling his breathing and squeezing his pounding heart. "Dean, I-"

"Who the hell do you think I am, Cas?!" Dean exclaimed, seeming panicked. He was shaking horribly, looking at Castiel up and down, wildly. "I'm not a fucking  _fag_ ," Dean suddenly exclaimed, his fists clenched as he advanced on Castiel, backing the dark-haired teen up.

Castiel felt like hiding- he felt like rewinding everything and taking back what he just did. No, no, no, no this was not supposed to happen. "I-Oh my God, I'm sor-"

"Just stay away from me," Dean hissed, looking at Castiel with panic disguised by hatred.

Castiel backed away, searching Dean's eyes, frantically. No. This could not be happening- it just couldn't. "No. No, Dean,  _please_ ," Castiel suddenly begged, only to earn a glare in return.

"I said  _stay away._ Go- I want you to  _leave_ ," Dean commanded coldly, his voice rising into a shout as he advanced forward in warning.

Castiel swallowed back the lump in his throat before backing away more, his eyes fixed on Dean's. Fighting back the urge to cry, Castiel found his voice.

"I'm  _sorry_ ," he whispered brokenly, searching Dean's eyes again, trying to look for some chance that he could fix this. But Dean just gazed back at Castiel, running his tongue over his lips before drawing them into a straight line, his eyes set.

And then Castiel was out the door, the biting cold of the winter weather nothing in comparison to the coldness that grasped at his very soul.

* * *

Dean didn't know what happened. One moment he was angry and yelling and the next Castiel was kissing him, his hands warm on Dean's cheeks and his lips soft against his own. Dean had freaked out. He'd thought about Castiel kissing Meg so freely- without a care, almost. And Dean couldn't help but panic when he thought that  _maybe Castiel was just using him._

Castiel had seen Dean's jealousy. He felt bad for him and he thought that kissing him would make it better. Why else would he go from kissing Meg to Dean all in one night? What had happened- how did everything change so suddenly?

Dean was just so angry and confused and upset and  _broken_. He wasn't ready for all these terrible, gut-twisting emotions. It was too much. At first, he thought things were going well. He was going to tell Cas, tonight. Dean had planned it- Sam was out at Andy's and Dean was going to play a movie and he was going to build up the courage to finally tell him.

Then he realized how stupid he must have been when he saw Cas and Meg. Castiel loved her, Dean could tell. He could tell from the way he held her and kissed her and defended her when Dean got angry. Castiel had compared Meg to him- he had said that she was close to him.

And Castiel was just too damn nice to leave Dean feeling angry and sad. That was why he kissed him. It didn't mean anything- it couldn't have. Dean had been awful- he yelled and accused and degraded Castiel. Why would he have wanted to kiss Dean? It just didn't make sense.

Nothing made sense.

And now Dean was left feeling empty- like half of him had been ripped away. Dean screwed up-  _oh, fuck, he screwed up_. Castiel was gone and he wouldn't come back. Not this time, not after this. Dean had his chance and he ruined it- just like he fucking ruined everything nice he ever grasped.

Those were the thoughts that would keep him awake, swirling through his head as the tingling in his lips lingered- a memoir of something that should have never been.


	21. Distraction

Castiel called in sick for work the next day.

Then the next. And the next.

Jo called and called and sent dozens of messages, but Castiel didn't reply to any of them, switching his form of communication to Ellen in order to inform her that he got the flu. She gave him the rest of the break off, wishing him well and telling him to call her when he was better. Castiel agreed he would, feeling awful for lying but deciding that it wasn't as awful of a feeling as what he currently had thrashing about within his mental state. So he went along with the lie.

In reality, though, Castiel was holed up in his room, debating on whether or not he should call Dean and apologize and beg him to not be mad. Winter break had been extended due to a freak blizzard that had caused a power outage at the school, and Castiel secretly couldn't have been more grateful. He didn't want to go to school. He didn't want to face anybody. He didn't want to leave the shelter his bed provided for him.

Why had he kissed Dean? Why the hell did he have to go and ruin the one good thing he had going on?  _Why did he have to do something so stupid?_

Castiel drove himself insane, laying in bed day after day. He only got up when he had to shower and to eat when he felt hunger pains begin. Other than that, Castiel stayed in one spot. Every day Castiel would send Dean a text. He'd keep it short, saying sorry and that he didn't mean to upset him.

And every day he would get messages from Jo and Meg, both the girls checking up on him. He couldn't bring himself to answer them, though. It just seemed so pointless. Everything seemed pointless.

Meg seemed to be apologizing, from what Castiel could comprehend as he read her messages with his numb mind. He couldn't get himself to focus on what she was apologizing for. His thoughts were elsewhere- crashing and throwing themselves fiercely at the barriers of his mind. Castiel wouldn't be able to talk to anybody. Not yet, at least. He really only wanted to see one name light up his phone.

Adam texted Castiel a few times, asking him if he wanted to join Jo and him for a movie night or go bowling with them another night. Castiel was happy for his friends, but he didn't feel much like being the third wheel for their dates, and declined politely, telling him he still wasn't feeling well. He kept the text short and didn't leave much room for Adam to argue. Castiel was surprised he could even bring himself to respond.

Adam seemed concerned, asking if Castiel wanted him to come by and check up on him or bring him anything. Castiel declined again, insisting that he'd be alright. He knew that Adam could sense Jo's worry. Jo would never talk about what happened at the diner with anybody, Castiel was sure of it. Adam must have just picked up on the suspicious situation, because he texted Castiel almost daily just to catch up with him. And Castiel would respond to some texts half-heartedly. He owed his friends at least that.

It didn't last long, though, and soon Adam's texts grew lesser until they ceased.

Castiel didn't even cut on the first two days. He was too numb to care about giving himself the gratitude of feeling. On the third day, though, Castiel gave in, more out of habit rather than want. He brought the razor underneath the cold stream of the shower. He set the water to ice cold, wanting to feel something colder than the hand that grasped at his heart. Once in the safety of the water, he proceeded to make three long cuts- one for each day he went without seeing Dean. He watched the blood trickle down his arm and pool at his feet almost dismissively, as if it weren't his own body he was cutting up. As though he were casually observing somebody else.

It didn't help, though. It didn't give him the distraction he needed. At this point, it seemed as if nothing would.

On the sixth day, Castiel answered the phone when Meg called. It was eleven o'clock. His room was dark and he couldn't bother to switch on any lights. When Meg called, Castiel greedily answered. He craved a friendly, familiar voice. He craved it more than he craved Dean.

"Hello?" Castiel spoke. His own voice startled him- gravelly and hushed and so very foreign from lack of use.

"Castiel?" the girl's voice inquired. "Jesus Christ, where the hell have you been? Why haven't you been answering? I've been so fucking worried, I-"

"I'm fine, Meg," Cas interrupted, but the weakness of his voice betrayed him, cracking at the end. The next thing Castiel knew, tears were running down his face. He was shocked with his body's reaction, lifting a hand up to his dampened cheeks and pulling away to see his fingers wet with tears. Before he knew it, he suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, his heart heavy in his chest at the feeling of anxiety.

Meg was silent. "What happened?" she asked, voice hushed.

Castiel choked back a sob, now. All the emotions that he had suppressed underneath his numb veil were leaking out, making themselves known with a powerful bang. "I messed up," Castiel whispered, biting his lip to stop it from quivering. He grabbed onto the blankets with his free hand, trying to find an anchor of some sort to keep him from drowning in the sudden downpour of emotions that now washed away his numb state.

"Cas… darling, tell me what's wrong," Meg urged him. Her voice sounded caring and warm- something he wasn't used to hearing. He choked back a sob, throat tightening at the warmth of her voice. He just wanted to be warm and safe.

"God- Meg, I'm so sorry. I'm so,  _so_ sorry- I," Castiel blabbered out, crying freely, now. He felt sicker than he had felt in days. His heart was throbbing and all he could think about was how much he needed Dean. "I love him, Meg.  _God_ , I love him so much. I'm sorry-  _so sorry_ ," Castiel sobbed, clutching an arm around himself as he bent over in his spot on his bed, shoulders shaking and eyes leaking horrible tears that he couldn't hold back.

She was silent, again. "Dean," she said, more as a statement rather than a question.

Castiel let out a sort of choked out sound at the name. "I'm sorry," he whispered desperately, feeling absolutely horrible. He wanted to apologize to her. Castiel didn't deserve her- she should yell at him and tell him how worthless and pathetic he was. He was terrible, this was all his fault, he should have never-

"I knew," Meg told him, not sounding the least bit shocked.

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed as he sat up straighter. The tears wouldn't stop falling- blurring his vision as he tried to postpone them. "What?" he asked, voice shaking inevitably.

"I knew you loved him," she admitted. "But, I… I don't know, I really like you, too. I'm not trying to- I didn't mean to make this complicated, okay? I just… Cas, you need to go for what will make you happy. You need to let yourself have whoever you want, damn the consequences."

Castiel wiped his hands over his eyes- a useless task, because more tears fell anyway. "He hates me, Meg," Castiel whispered.

"I doubt that, Clarence," the voice assured, a trace of bitter humor lacing it. It was silent as Castiel tried to calm his breathing and stop the flow of tears so he could compose himself for just a long enough amount of time to talk to Meg.

"I don't know what to do," Castiel admitted, his voice weak and his eyes burning. "I have no clue."

"Well, first off,  _try_ ," was all Meg said to that. "Be safe, alright? I'll see you soon."

Then she hung up, and Castiel was left feeling worse than before.

* * *

Dean went about his business like normal. He figured that if he returned to his routine and tried to pretend that Cas was never a part of it, things would get better.

The thing was, though… Cas was the biggest part of Dean's routine.

When Dean would head out of the house and go to work, he'd unconsciously start driving to Castiel's house to take him to the diner. He had to stop himself when he got to Cas's neighborhood, realizing with a sickening punch to his gut that Castiel was no longer a part of his life.

He'd think about Castiel all throughout work, thinking about the feel of his fingers on his cheeks and his chapped lips moistening with their kissing. He'd think about Castiel's smell and stupid blue button-up and his goddamned sex hair. Dean would daydream about the way Castiel's blue eyes seemed to glow whenever they landed on Dean, the adorable crow's feet outlining his eyes making him look all the more lovable. His vision of Castiel's eyes was sharply stripped away, though, when he thought about the look of pain and fright that had enveloped them when Dean had roughly shoved him away.

That hurt too much to think about.

He found himself having to turn his phone off, most days, in fear of reading the messages Castiel would send and going through a horrible-guilty freak out. He couldn't read them. He couldn't face Castiel. He couldn't hear Cas blame himself and apologize when Dean knew full well it was nobody's fault but his own. He just wasn't ready to talk about his feelings and open up such a big part of himself to Castiel.

Dean had never been in love, before. He swore to himself that he never would. He didn't want to end up like his dad- losing the one he loved and living off of rage and alcohol. Dean would never be able to love somebody, because he simply wasn't strong enough to go through the pain of losing them.

He missed his mother.

Dean never told Sammy this, but he still had dreams about the day she died. He remembered the night he heard the news. He remembered not understanding why somebody would ever kill someone as kind as Mary. He remembered the seething hate and pain that filled his father's eyes for months as he tried to recover his mental wounds, drinking night after night- almost losing his job. And he remembered all too clearly the many times they moved as John worked at finding Mary's killer. He remembered the training he put Dean through- all those self-defense classes that Dean attended in order to protect Sam and himself. He remembered asking his father why they had to move so much, and getting reprimanded and punished for "being so selfish".

It was when Dean was thirteen and living with Sam in a cheap motel as their father worked investigations that he decided he'd never love anybody. He didn't want to become the man his father turned out to be- ignoring loved ones he had in pursuit of avenging the one he lost.

Love was not for Dean Winchester. It never would be.

Dean was growing too close to Cas. He was overwhelmed with all the feelings that he had never felt before. Cas meant too much to Dean- he had become too big of a part of Dean's life. This wasn't safe. This wasn't what Dean had planned. This wasn't what he had promised himself all those years ago.

And that was why Dean was so afraid. That was why he ignored Castiel, hanging out with Sammy during the remainder of the break and almost following around the younger Winchester like a lost puppy. This continued until his little brother got sick of him, telling Dean to "go hang out with Cas or something". He didn't do that, though, and instead hung out with Ash and Chuck a couple of times, going to an arcade one night and then drinking at Chuck's house the next.

On the sixth day, Chuck and Ash wanted to visit Ellen's diner. Dean had agreed hesitantly, only wanting to go in order not to raise any suspicions. He knew Jo would be there- it was a Tuesday and the only days she didn't work were Wednesdays. Jo had texted him the day they caught Cas and Meg making out. She asked him not to get mad, sending what appeared to be hundreds of texts telling him not to yell at or get upset with Cas.

Dean wished he had read those, before.

So he sat in anxiety in the backseat of Ash's truck, gazing out the window as the diner pulled into his line of vision. It was late- about ten thirty, and the diner would be closing, soon. The group of teens walked into the restaurant, Ash waving a hello to Jo, who greeted him with a dramatic sigh and a smile, asking him why he always ate here and when he'd finally be sick of their food. Ash defended himself by stating that nowhere else granted him a twenty five percent discount.

So with a playful eye roll, Jo began to lead them to the table, then froze when she saw Dean lingering behind.

"Dean," she breathed out, startled. Dean spoke to her with his eyes, silently begging her to wait until later for them to talk. She seemed to understand, because her lips set into a line before she nodded once and led the boys to their table.

A while after they had settled down and made their orders, Jo signaled Dean to follow her to the bar counter. Dean felt a sickening churn in his stomach at the thought of returning anywhere near the back room, but he obliged, getting up and trailing behind the blond.

When they were out of earshot of the others, Jo spoke.

"What the hell happened?" she asked, eyes enraged and hands on her hips. "Why the fuck haven't you or Cas been answering me?"

Dean sighed. "I don't know why Cas hasn't. But I've been busy, Jo. I'm sorry," he lied. It physically hurt him to speak Castiel's name, and he hoped that didn't show.

Jo looked angrier. "Bull. Cas called in sick, he hasn't been to work in six days," Jo informed Dean, eyes accusing. "Now don't tell me that hasn't got anything to do with you."

Dean felt his heart squeeze. Castiel hadn't been to work. He hadn't been answering Jo's messages. He called in saying he was sick. And it was all Dean's fault.

A strong part of Dean worried about his friend, almost forcing him to drive over there right this second in Ash's truck and check on Cas, himself. He felt a surge of protection envelop him, the need to guard Castiel burning in the pit of his stomach.

That was until Dean realized that he was the one Castiel needed protection from.

And that thought just made his need to vomit increase.

Nevertheless, Dean looked into Jo's eyes blankly as he composed himself.

"It hasn't got anything to do with me," he uttered.

And now there was no going back.

* * *

When Castiel heard his father leave the house, he got off his bed and went to his closet, slipping on some jeans and a jacket over his t-shirt. Distraction. He needed a better distraction. And Castiel knew just what to do.

He pulled on some shoes and walked down the stairs to the kitchen, double checking around him to make sure his father was definitely gone. The house was dark and quiet, and Castiel flicked on a few lights as he walked into the kitchen, searching through the cabinets for-

Ah. There it was.

A feeling of relief pooling in his stomach, Castiel brought out the bottle of whiskey, a little more than half full from his father's previous uses. He opened it and took a whiff before inspecting the golden brown liquid, again. Castiel had never tried whiskey- the strongest liquor he had was vodka at Charlie's party, and even that was dulled down with juice. Would he be able to handle such a harsh drink all by itself?

In all honesty, Castiel found that he didn't care. He took a deep breath and downed a hesitant sip. It went down smooth enough (the bottle was not a cheaper brand), only leaving a burning sensation in Castiel's throat that he seemed to almost enjoy. It erased the coldness from within him, the heat that the liquid provided pooling in his stomach, now. The flavor was smoky- almost earthy in its taste. Castiel didn't like it much, but after a couple more sips he found that he had already grown addicted to the warmth that flooded his veins. His body ached as he downed sip after sip, and after a few minutes in the kitchen, Castiel began to feel light and giggly and  _so much better._

A smile found its way to Castiel's lips as he leaned heavily against the counter, his mind turning into a foggy mess after he'd lost count of how many "sips" he'd taken. Shaky fingers squeezed onto the neck of the cool bottle, and Castiel let out an exhale, licking his lips before steadying himself on his feet. Suddenly, the house seemed too lonely. Castiel ached to be anywhere but in his painful and sad home. He wanted to be with people- wanted to drink with his friends and just laugh and have fun like he had on New Years. He wanted everything to be normal, again. Castiel just wanted to be okay.

His mind suddenly made up, the blue-eyed boy stumbled out the front door, one hand fumbling with the doorknob while the other held on pathetically to the bottle of whiskey. The night was dark and cold and almost seemed to suck Castiel in, welcoming him like an old friend.

This was the distraction he needed.

* * *

Castiel drank from the bottle held in his hand as he made his way down a street he didn't recognize. The roads were dark- occasionally lit by a dim streetlight or two. He could feel the need to cry slowly slip away bit by bit after every swig of whiskey. His stomach churned and burned and ached with protest against the harsh liquor, but Castiel ignored it.

He liked the feeling, if he ignored the fact that it made him sick. Besides that, it was the warmth that Castiel had been lacking. And that heat was something Castiel had dreamed of for days. It was too good to relinquish- too comfortable to disregard. So Castiel ignored his intuition, and drank.

The snow crunched underneath Castiel's feet- soaking through the soles of his worn-out sneakers and wetting the material as it began to seep through his socks, as well. Castiel's throat burned from the whiskey, but his breath came out in white puffs in the chilled air that summoned goosebumps on his skin.

The liquid scorched at Castiel's throat and tongue as he took another sip, smiling at the heat pooling and trickling through the inside of his stomach. The original irritated feeling Castiel first felt at the sensation soon replaced itself with a feeling of comfort.

 _This is why Raphael likes drinking so much_ , Castiel thought to himself. He tipped his head back and downed some more, thoughts of his father flooding his mind as he did so. He wasn't going to be happy that Castiel took his drink, but the teen found that he couldn't care less. Let his father beat him up- what was the point, anyways? It's not like Castiel had anything to care about anymore. He screwed it all up.

He ruined his relationship with Meg. He hurt her, and she'd never talk to him again. He kissed his best friend and scared him away. Lastly, he ignored his other friends and probably led them to believing that he hated them. Castiel fucked it all up.

He always fucked it all up.

Castiel's thoughts went fuzzy, and he began to lose the ability to control his own body as he stumbled clumsily- not sure what he was trying to find. The lack of control frightened the teen, at first, but after a few more gulps the comfort returned and Castiel was once again reassured. It actually felt quite nice not having to control his body and thoughts and handing over all the work and stresses to the alcohol. Castiel soon began to trust the holy-like liquid in his precious bottle more than he would trust his closest friend-

Oh. Dean. That's why Castiel was doing this.

Feeling nauseous, Castiel drank the thought away, drowning everything he deemed to be uncomfortable in the harsh liquor.

It felt nice.

* * *

Jo was sitting in the living room having a movie night with her mother when her phone rang. The insistent quacking ring tone startled them both, and Jo suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Ash had set up that ringtone as a prank back in sophomore year. Jo didn't ever bother to change it.

 _Who is calling me this late?_  the blonde wondered as she pulled out her cellphone from her jacket pocket. Jo's mother was probably wondering the same thing, given the eyebrow-raised look she directed towards her daughter. It was twelve in the morning. It must be something important.

And Jo's heart nearly stopped when she saw the photo of her and Cas making cross-eyed faces in a photo they had taken light up her phone. The caller ID: "Cas" displayed itself over the ridiculous picture, presenting itself to her.

Jo stared dumbfounded at her phone before jumping out of her seat, pardoning herself as she left the living room. When she was out of hearing range of the living room, Jo answered, silencing the quacking ringtone.

"Hello? Cas? What's the matter? Is everything okay?" Jo asked, confused and worried.

"Jo? Jo's that you? Where're you? How come I can hear you?" Cas's slurred, deep voice asked. It sounded as if he had just woken up from an uncomfortable sleep.

Before Jo could answer, Castiel began laughing in an off-putting fashion. " _Oh_ , I'm on the phone! Jo, why're you calling me?  _You_  should be in bed, young lady. We've got  _school_ on Monday," Castiel told her, giggling before he sighed heavily. Jo's eyes widened in realization.

"Cas,  _you_ called  _me_ ," Jo sputtered. She didn't want to ask the question. She didn't want to believe what was happening. "Is everything-" Jo was cut off by Castiel's laughing. " _Cas_ , are- are you  _drunk?_ " Jo asked in an incredulous whisper so her mother couldn't hear. There was no way Castiel would be able to keep his job if Ellen found out he'd been drinking instead of working. Not even Ellen's intense fondness over Castiel could prevent him from getting fired. And Jo knew that was the last thing the dark-haired teen needed.

" _Fuck_ , yeah I am- Jo, come and drink with me! It's so great- but a bit lonely, right now, so you should c'mere," Castiel ranted.

"Cas-," Jo hissed.

"Why're you whisperin', Jo?" Castiel suddenly noticed, whispering, as well. "Is An-Andy-Adam there?  _H_ _ello-oo_ , Adam!" Castiel hollered before a noise that sounded like fumbling sounded on the other line, followed by muffled cursing and then laughing.

" _Castiel_ ," Jo exclaimed harshly, now. "Why are you drunk?" she asked, heart racing in her chest as she put a hand on her forehead, pacing in the hallway. "What the hell are you doing?"

Castiel didn't answer her, though.

"Aw…  _shit_ ," he exclaimed.

"What?" Jo asked, scared. Castiel had sounded really shocked. "What happened?"

Castiel was silent.

" _Cas_ ," Jo began.

"Jo! I ran outta whiskey," Castiel suddenly exclaimed, the sound of glass breaking following soon after. "I finished the bottle, Jo. M'sorry," Castiel apologized. "'Tried to leave some fr'ya, I promise," Castiel slurred. "I don't remember drinking it all, thought I left some fr'ya."

"Wait, Cas, you drank a  _whole_ bottle of whiskey?" Jo asked, frightened out of her wits. Shit, if Cas drank the whole bottle he could-

"Don't be silly, there was only-like-  _half_ ," Castiel replied, voice gravelly and grouchy sounding. He suddenly giggled. "Quit your worrying, Jo-Bo." Suddenly, a sound of a car passing by filled the line.

" _Shit_ , are you outside?" Jo asked, already making her way to her door where she lingered, wanting to leave but not wanting to raise any suspicions with her mother.

But Castiel was in danger. Surely it was worth the risk?

"Yeah, m'outside. Not sure where… I just kept walkin' and walkin'- I don't feel too good, Jo. Feelin' kinda shitty- but I guess it's my fault-"

"What are you talking about?" Jo asked, heart pounding with worry and her build-up of anxiety.

Suddenly, Castiel chuckled. "Oh, y'don't know. Y'don't know, cuz he didn't tell you, because I did somethin' really stupid. I fucked up real bad," Castiel drawled on, his voice now seeming completely wrecked and sad. Jo's heart clenched.

"Castiel… tell me what happened," Jo ordered. "Please," she added, just for good measure.

Castiel was silent for a moment before he laughed. "I kissed Dean," Castiel murmured, letting out a deep breath before he chuckled humorlessly. "I kissed him 'n he said he's not a fag- told me t'stay away from him," Castiel explained, his voice breaking at the last syllable. Jo tried not to cry, herself.

She didn't know what to say, her mouth agape with the news. She was shocked and angry and confused and she just  _didn't know what to say_. "Cas…."

"S'my fault, Jo. Fucked up. I fucked up real bad," Castiel spoke before letting out what sounded like a choked sob. " _Shit_ , that's not supposed to happen. Not supposed to cry- not supposed to feel. Need more whiskey," Castiel murmured. Jo only barely picked up his words, and she found that her eyes were beginning to prickle with tears at her friend's broken voice.

"Cas, where are you? Let me come and get you, you can spend the night here," Jo told him.

Another sound of a car driving filled the phone. "Don't know where I am," Castiel slurred. "There's some-"

The call ended, and Jo looked at her phone incredulously. The red letters of "Call Dropped" blinked before the phone returned to the home screen. Frantic, Jo tried dialing Castiel, again.

The call didn't go through- leading straight to voicemail.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Jo murmured, freaking out now as she ran a shaky hand through her hair. She couldn't leave the house without worrying her mother. But Castiel needed her help- he'd get himself killed, the dumb fucking bastard. She could wait until her mother went to bed, but that'd take hours since they were watching a movie. She could just  _tell_ her mom, but then Castiel would get fired and Jo would probably not be allowed to hang out with him, again.

She could call Ash and ask him to pick Cas up, but then Ash would find out about Cas and Dean. And she couldn't ask Adam. He would find out about it all, too, since Cas would no doubt blurt it out in his drunken state. Second, it would break his curfew rule and he'd get his new car taken away.

Jo was running low on options. She realized that now as she scrolled through her contacts, mumbling "please be awake please be awake" as she pressed the button for Dean's number.

He didn't answer the first time. On the second try (with Jo whispering curses and murmuring "pick up the phone you goddamn ass"), Dean picked up on the third humming ring.

"Jo? What's-"

" _Dean_. It's Cas- he's in trouble, I don't know where he is but he called me and he was drunk and I can't leave the house to look for him because my mom will find out he's been drinking and I couldn't go out to look for him because my mom is still awake and I couldn't ask Adam or Ash be-"

"Jo, calm down," Dean instructed, the sound of footsteps coming from his side of the line. "Do you know where he could be? Did he describe it?" Dean asked, the sound of a zipper making Jo calm slightly. Good. Dean was up and he was listening.

"No. H-he didn't tell me where. His phone died, I think. I can't get a hold of him. I-uh, I heard cars driving past him. Only a few, but still. He couldn't have wandered off too far from his house, but I think he might have gotten out of his neighborhood," Jo informed her friend all in a ramble.

"It's okay, Jo. It's okay," Dean spoke, although he sounded worried, as well. "I'm gonna look for him, okay? Don't tell Ellen- just stay home. I'm heading out now," Dean told her, the sound of the Impala door shutting and the engine starting up confirming that fact.

Jo didn't know what to say. She was pushing back tears so that her mother wouldn't ask questions. " _Dean_ ," she whispered. Her throat was tight and her voice was strained.

"I'll find him, Jo. I promise I will."

Jo bit her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth as she tried to calm the aching pounding in her heart. "You'd better damn call me when you do or I swear I'll kick your ass, Dean," Jo warned him instead of thanking him. She was furious with him. This was technically Dean's fault, according to Cas. Dean had gone off at Cas after he had kissed him. Castiel had finally  _showed_ Dean that he liked him, and the bastard had tossed him out and treated him like shit.

Jo was fucking pissed. But she'd have to deal with Dean, later. Right now Castiel needed help.

"I will," Dean assured. "I gotta go, Jo. I'll talk to you, later- I promise," Dean spoke before he hung up.

And Jo retreated to the living room, ignoring her mother's questioning gaze and trying to pay attention to the movie flickering on the screen, her frantic mind preoccupied with thought of Castiel, hoping to God that he was okay.

* * *

Castiel Novak stared at his phone when it had beeped, the screen turning black. He pressed some buttons insistently before his drunken mind came to terms with the fact that his phone had died. He ended up shoving his phone into his jacket pocket clumsily, stumbling around the sidewalk he was walking on and squinting irritably when headlights would flash at him as cars passed.

Castiel didn't know where he was. There weren't many streetlights, and under further inspection with his blurry vision (Castiel wasn't wearing his contacts), the dark-haired teen saw some houses around him, lights off and the street they sat on quiet with nighttime

Another car passed, and it ran over a muddy puddle of melted snow and dirt, splashing all of Castiel's right side thoroughly. He cursed and glared drunkenly at the car as it sped away. Castiel was shivering, now, as he walked, wondering what the hell he was doing outside in this cold weather, and trying to remember why the fuck he had gotten drunk in the first place.

He couldn't remember, though. Castiel's mind was a jumbled mess, all coherent thoughts slipping out of reach just when Castiel started to grasp them. Suddenly, Castiel felt quite lost and a little bit scared. He wished that he had some more whiskey to rid him of the scary feeling that squeezed his heart and burned his stomach.

But he was alone and drink-less, wandering aimlessly as he tried to recall what had gotten him here in the first place.

* * *

Dean had been lying on his bed trying to sleep when Jo had called.

And when he had found his phone and heard the frantic blond tell him about Castiel, Dean was up and dressed in a jacket and jeans, already making his way out of the house to look for Castiel under Jo's instruction. His heart was pounding and it ached with worry, and all Dean could think was  _I need to find him, I need to find him, I need to find him._

And those thoughts and worries clouded his mind as he drove, inspecting his neighborhood carefully before driving to Castiel's. There were little to no cars on the snow slick roads, and Dean prayed that no cops would find Castiel and arrest him for being drunk  _and_  wandering around after curfew time. Hell, Dean would get into a shitload of trouble, too, if he were to get caught driving. He needed to find Castiel, first. He wouldn't even let a thousand cop cars stop him from making sure his friend was okay.

 _This is all my fault_ , the blond thought as he slowly drove down a road close to Castiel's neighborhood. Dean should have never pushed Castiel away- he should have never ignored his texts and made him feel like crap.

What if Castiel's kiss wasn't fake? What if Castiel actually meant it and Dean had just rid himself of the best thing that could have happened to him?

Those were the thoughts that haunted Dean's mind in the six (now seven) days that he had gone without seeing his best friend. Those were the thoughts that churned Dean's stomach and made him feel like there was suddenly no air to breathe. Those were the thoughts that made him bump his head on car trunks at the auto shop and fuck up the simplest of tasks.

Dean needed Castiel. He was nothing without him, and he knew that, now. Dean didn't just want Castiel to be around him (although that would be more than he deserves, right now). Dean wanted Castiel to be  _his_. He wanted to be able to kiss those full lips good morning and hold Castiel's hand and push off anymore fucking girls that tried to flirt with him at the diner. Why did Dean get rid of the one thing that could have some fucking potential to be something great in his life? Why did Dean have to be so goddamn emotionally constipated and unable to just say those three fucking words? Why couldn't he just look into Castiel's stupid blue eyes and tell him how much he wanted him, and how he would surely wither away and disappear without Castiel's presence- without his light and his touch and the way that he brought Dean up from his worst of moods?

Pressing down on the gas, Dean clenched his jaw as he tried to repress his thoughts. He needed to fix this. And the way to start was to  _find Castiel._

So Dean checked the teen's neighborhood, coming up with nothing after an extensive search that also included him getting out of his car and walking into the cold night to look between houses, hoping Castiel would be there.

But he wasn't.

It was a good thing Dean wasn't easily deterred, though, because he only got back in his car and continued driving, turning left on the exit from Castiel's neighborhood, going by the footprints he barely saw pressed into the muddy snow when he had been outside. And he hoped that for God's sake they were Castiel's.

Luck was on his side when he saw a swaying, small figure, about a mile down the road. Dean's heart launched into his chest and threatened to burst when he recognized that mop of dark hair and that blue jacket (thank God Castiel was wearing a coat).

Quickly, Dean pulled over next to the teen, his headlights bathing his friend in light that Castiel turned around to squint at, putting a hand above his eyes to see Dean coming out of the driver's seat.

"Cas, what the fucking hell!" Dean exclaimed, not sure how else to express his relief rather than with aggression. "I've been looking for you everywhere, what the hell are you doing?" Dean asked as he reached his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

Suddenly, Castiel broke into a wide smile. " _Deeean,_ " his voice slurred, and he began laughing, reaching over to pull Dean into a muddy hug (why was half of Castiel fucking soaked?). " _Dean_ , I missed you so fucking much, Dean," Castiel mumbled, sagging into Dean as the blond held him up, heart pounding at Castiel's closeness, the tiny form of Cas's body shaking slightly in Dean's arms. Suddenly, the blond boy began to wonder how long Castiel had been like this- soaked and cold and walking in the snow.

"Cas-"

"I like that, Dean. I like it when y'call me Cas- it's nice- makes me feel good, makes me feel happy," Castiel babbled, breaking into fits of laughter, again, as Dean's heart weighed down in his chest, heavy with guilt at Cas's state. "I like sayin' your name, Dean. It's nice, too, Dean. Deeean, Dean, Dean, De-"

"Stop- Cas, stop," Dean ordered him, separating them slightly and holding him by the shoulders as he looked into Castiel's eyes. They were unfocused in a way that made Dean uneasy. He swallowed before he spoke, again. "I'm gonna take you to my house, okay?" Dean told him slowly. "We gotta get you into something warm. How much did you drink? What did you drink?" Dean asked as he began to walk Cas to the Impala, being careful not to slip on the snow as he held on tight to his friend.

"I drank whiskey, it didn't taste too good, Dean, but it made me forget- not sure what I wanted to forget, now. Don't 'member. Think it was 'bout you," Castiel babbled as Dean grabbed a towel from the trunk, drying Castiel's head and wrapping it around him before he settled him down in the passenger seat.

"How much did you drink, Cas?" Dean asked frantically. Whiskey was some tough shit, and Dean knew Castiel didn't drink, much. He was tiny, too. Fuck, he might have to take Cas to the fucking hospital.

As Dean slipped into the driver's seat, Castiel spoke.

"Was about half a bottle. Little more than half, I think," Castiel slurred, his head lolling. He didn't say anything more, and Dean grew worried.

"Cas?" he called out once he had started up the car and turned the heater on the highest setting it would allow. Castiel jerked at his name being called.

"Didn't mean t'be a fag, Dean," Castiel murmured, suddenly remembering what he had gotten drunk for. "Just really like you- really wanted to kiss you, Dean," Castiel spoke, his gravelly voice sounding hurt. Dean felt as though his insides had been torn out of him.

He didn't say anything as he shot Jo a text telling her he had found Cas and that he'd call her in a bit. Then Dean pulled off from the side of the road, easing the car through the streets as he prayed that they wouldn't be stopped by cops. Castiel was silent as Dean drove, trying to get home the quickest he could.

"You still with me, Cas?" Dean asked when the teen had gotten disconcertingly quiet.

Castiel growled out a confirmation. "Feel like shit," he murmured.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Yeah, that'll happen to you when you drink half a bottle of whiskey, Cas."

The teen seemed to make a noise of protest. "No- I feel shitty. Feel like crap. Fucked up, Dean. Sorry I fucked up. Didn't mean to make you mad," Castiel had spoken, his voice incredibly upset.

Dean swallowed back a lump in his throat. He didn't know what to say.

"Tried callin' you every day. Y'never answered. It's okay, though, I'd hate me, too," the teen slurred. "I'm a fucking piece of-"

"Stop it," Dean interrupted, anxious as he shook his head, refusing to look at his friend. But Castiel only continued, unphased.

"Shit. I'm shit. I didn't leave my room, Dean," Castiel rambled as he sat up, although he was leaning heavily on the door, towel drooping down from his shoulders. "Stayed in my room all week. Meg called- told her I don't wanna be with her- I think I hurt her feelings, Dean. I hurt her real bad, but I can't help it because-"

" _Cas-"_

"I love you, Dean," Castiel continued, making Dean's heart stop in his chest as he looked incredulously at Castiel before looking back at the road, trying to calm his racing pulse. He hadn't heard that right. There was no way he had heard that right. "Told Meg I love you n'she was upset. I hurt a lot of people- it's all I do. I just fuck shit up and I make people hate me because why would they like me, I don't deserve-"

"Castiel,  _shut the fuck up_ ," Dean ordered. Finally, the teen closed his mouth, suddenly looking at Dean with wide blue eyes.

"M'sorry, Dean," he murmured before sagging in his seat.

And Dean fought back the burning in his eyes because  _why the hell was Cas apologizing?_  This was Dean's fault- it was his fault only, damnit! He couldn't take this anymore- he couldn't hear Castiel like this.

But Dean didn't know what to say. He wasn't fucking good with crap like this. What could he say? Cas just said the three fucking words that Dean Winchester had never spoken. The three words that he always dreaded hearing.

The three words that meant Dean had someone he could lose. Someone he would one day cry over. Someone besides his family that he would have to protect and take care of.

No. Dean didn't want this. He couldn't fucking do this.

Dean could feel his breath hitch in his throat as he tried to calm his breathing, clearing his mind of its frantic thoughts. Now was not the time to freak out. Right now Cas needed help, Dean reminded himself as he pulled into his garage. Taking a deep breath and shaking away his thoughts, Dean got out of the car and walked over to the passenger seat.

"Come on, Cas," Dean murmured as he hauled Cas out of the car, pulling him up by his arm and ignoring the whimper that the scrawny boy emitted.

"Owww, ouch- hurts, Dean," Castiel murmured, sagging into his friend's side and he clumsily tried to gain control over his footing. Dean pulled him along, taking him inside and into his room. Sam was still asleep (thank God, Dean didn't wanna explain  _this_ ), and Dean tried to be as discreet as someone all but carrying a drunk person could be.

After only a few minutes of struggle, Dean had Cas in his room and situated on his desk chair where the teen slumped, murmuring nonsense. Dean sighed as he rifled through his closet, pulling out some spare clothes for Castiel to wear. Cas was definitely soaked with water and mud, from what Dean could see in the better lighting, and it looked suspiciously like it had been sprayed on him. Maybe from a passing car, Dean decided.

So, after managing to find a pair of sweatpants and an old sweater (Castiel never did bring back the ones Dean had given him after the egg incident, Dean noticed with a blush), Dean walked over to Cas and pulled him onto his feet. "Here, Cas," he said, handing him the clothes. "You think you can change by yourself?" Dean asked as Castiel's fingers fumbled to hold onto the clothing. Dean didn't want to change him into it- he knew Castiel would not appreciate that when morning came.

Cas nodded, and Dean lead him to the hallway bathroom, keeping a steady hand on the teen's back. "I'll be right outside, okay?" Dean reassured him as he closed the door to the bathroom once Castiel was standing safely inside.

After a few minutes of some fumbling and grunting noises, Cas was silent. Dean grew concerned until the pained sound of vomiting reached his ears. Eyes widened, Dean threw open the door to the sight of Cas hunched over the toilet (he had managed to get Dean's clothes on, at least), emptying out the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl. Dean sighed with relief. It was a good thing he was getting the whiskey out. Now Dean would be able to let Cas sleep without being afraid of him dying from drowning in his own vomit or something horribly morbid like that.

Carefully, Dean made his way over to his friend, kneeling down next to him and putting a comforting hand on his back. "Easy there, buddy," he murmured as Cas gripped on tighter to the seat, his hands paper white and mouth agape as he panted and gasped. "Just let it out, Cas," Dean encouraged as the teen let out a heave and another wave of vomit into the toilet.

Dean kept his hand on Cas's back, rubbing small circles as the small boy threw up everything he could. After Cas had calmed his sickness for a suitable amount of time, Dean gently helped up his friend, flushing the toilet and closing the seat so Cas could sit on it.

Cas was a sickly green- his lips cracked and dirty and face beaded with sweat from the force of vomiting his body had gone through. Dean wet a towel and wiped Cas's face, trying to cool down the teen and get his skin to return to a normal shade. Cas hummed appreciatively into the cool press of the towel, his throat raw from the harsh burn of acid and his eyes underlined with heavy bags.

"You're okay," Dean murmured, putting a hand on Cas's arm and rubbing soothing circles with his thumb as he wiped at Cas's face. "You're fine, you'll be okay," he said more for his own comfort rather than Cas's.

Dean got Cas to swish around some mouthwash and drink a glass of water before he took him to the guest room. The bed was already clean and made, and he eased Cas into the sheets and onto his side, covering him up and retrieving a trash can that he placed next to the bed just in case.

"Alright. Get some sleep," Dean ordered, making his way out of the room.

"M'sorry, Dean," Cas murmured, his voice still slurred. Dean looked back at his friend, but the teen was already asleep.

And when Dean went to his own bed, he called Jo. The blond had been frantic, but once Dean calmed her down and explained everything she seemed a bit distant and angry. And, again, Dean wondered how much Cas had told her.

After bidding Jo an awkward goodnight, Dean kicked off his shoes and laid back in his bed. He found that he couldn't slip into sleep's grasp, though. Instead he just stared at the ceiling and thought about all that he had done wrong, and wondered if he'd be able to fix it.


	22. Mistakes

Castiel woke up to a familiar smell. It was a smell of leather, shampoo, and a faint trace of enticing cologne. It was a smell that was once comforting, but now only filled Castiel with nauseating dread.

And the realization that hit Castiel's mind sent him sitting straight up in his unfamiliar bed, his head pounding with headache and pulsing with pain that made the light streaming in through the window seem all too bright. Castiel grunted, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping onto his head as he tried to tame the searing pain.

What had happened last night?

Cautiously easing his eyelids open, Castiel looked around him as he grew accustomed to the sunlight. The room was slightly unfamiliar, at first, but he soon realized he had been in it once before when looking through boxes with Dean for scissors that they needed for their group project. This was the guest room.

What was Castiel doing in the Winchester's guest room?

Grunting with irritation at his lack of memory, Castiel looked to his right to find a pill and a glass of water sitting on the nightstand. He took it and downed the tiny tablet, gulping down the water that somewhat eased his sore head.

Now that he was more awake, Castiel noticed his clothes laid out at the foot of the bed. Although he wanted to go back to sleep, Castiel got up and got changed, slipping off what he suspected were Dean's clothes and putting on his own. They were freshly washed, Castiel noticed. It was not his own detergent, though. This one was Dean's. He recognized the scent.

Blinking back his confusion, Castiel slipped on his shoes where they sat on the floor by the nightstand. They were slightly damp and muddy, and Castiel wondered once more what on Earth had happened last night.

Suddenly, he noticed his phone sitting on the table by the now empty glass of water. Castiel grabbed the old cell phone, trying to turn it on so he could see the time. It was dead, though.

Castiel gained memories of walking in snow, talking on his phone before it died. Was that last night? Had Castiel been outside last night?

Suddenly, Castiel's heart stuttered to a horrible pause.

Shit. He was in Dean's house. Castiel had kissed Dean. Their most previous encounter, as Castiel recalled, resulted in Dean telling him to stay away. Why was Castiel here? What on Earth had happened? He remembers taking his father's whiskey… and going out for a walk… but everything after that was blank.

His heart pounding in his chest, Castiel made his way out of the guest room, deciding to suck up his fear and try and find out what happened. When he got to the living room, Dean was there, chin propped up on his hand as his other held a remote, switching through channels on the TV. He automatically noticed Castiel's presence, though, and stood up when he entered the room.

Dean's eyes were wide, his stance careful. "Cas," he breathed out, licking his lips before attempting to relax his posture.

Castiel's heart ached at hearing his nickname. Everything hurt and he just didn't want to face Dean, anymore. The blue-eyed boy suddenly felt angry and embarrassed and defensive. "Why am I here?" he growled, trying to calm his quickening breathing.

Dean swallowed before he turned off the TV, placing the remote on the table. It was silent for a moment as Dean averted his gaze from Castiel to other objects in the room, seeming to be trying to gather his words. "You got drunk last night," Dean spoke, meeting Castiel's eyes then looking away. "You, uh, you called Jo. She got worried, and asked me to find you," Dean reported, his voice small. He seemed shy and awkward. Was he guilty? No, why would he care. He obviously wanted Castiel to get lost. He had said as much.

Feeling tears prickle at his eyes, Castiel puffed out his chest, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "I'm leaving," Castiel murmured, making his way to the door. He didn't want to cry. Not in front of this awful, deceitful green-eyed stranger he thought was his friend.

"Cas, wait," Dean begged, following him to the door.

Castiel turned around, glaring at Dean with so much venom in his stare that the blond stopped in his tracks, eyes wide. "Do not talk to me, Dean. Don't even bother," he hissed, stepping closer to the teen as he looked up at him. His heart was pounding, and each pulse hurt terribly. "You don't have to worry about dealing with my 'fag' self, anymore. You're free, now. I'll stay away, this time, just like you asked," Castiel snapped, his voice struggling not to crack as tears filled his eyes. This hurt so much. Everything hurt and he didn't want to do this. Why couldn't things just be normal? Why did it all have to end like this?

Dean's eyebrows furrowed, his eyes desperate as his figure slumped. "Cas," he whispered, seeming so broken and horribly sad. Castiel ignored it, though. Some part of him, deep inside, caught and lingered onto Dean's eyes- the look he gave him. But then his rational side took over. Dean didn't care, not really. If he did, he would have returned Castiel's calls. He wouldn't have pushed him away and ignored him and told him to leave. Dean didn't care about mending his friendship with Castiel. All he cared about was alleviating his guilt- befriending the freak so that people would think of him kindly. Dean Winchester was fake. He always had been. Castiel had fallen for him, and now he was paying the price.

"Goodbye, Dean," Castiel murmured before turning around and making his way out the door.

Once he was out of Dean's neighborhood and far enough away, Castiel let the tears shed, tearing out of him in sobs and ripping apart the last of his stability.

* * *

Dean felt like shit.

That was the only way to put it, honestly.

Everything just felt so  _wrong_. This was not supposed to happen. Dean was supposed to fix this- he was supposed to apologize and make things right. He was supposed to tell Castiel how stupid he had been, and he was supposed to tell him how he truly felt.

Dean hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, last night. He had worked to clean up Castiel's clothes for him, making sure the stain of mud was gone and placing it at Castiel's bed that morning. Castiel had seemed so still in his sleep, Dean had noticed. He was almost worried that the teen wasn't breathing, until he heard murmurs bubble out from the snoozing boy's mouth. Dean had smiled at that. It was just so nice to have Castiel safe in Dean's home. It felt  _right_. Castiel being around was just proper and it was the way things were supposed to be.

Sadly, that was not how things would be, anymore. Not unless Dean fixed things. That thought alone left Dean with a gaping hole as he fought off sleep, wanting to be awake to greet the dark-haired teen when he woke. He had conjured up hundreds upon thousands of apologies and things he could say that would hopefully make Castiel forgive him.

But when it came down to it, Dean couldn't do it. It didn't feel appropriate. He wouldn't be able to express his apology through mere spoken words. Castiel deserved way more than that, after what Dean had done. After what Cas had been through.

Dean had truly hoped that he'd be able to return things to normal. And, maybe if he was lucky enough, revive what he had almost had with Cas. This just wasn't happening. It wasn't right. It didn't feel good, not one bit.

Running a hand through his hair, Dean let out an agitated sigh. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad.

How was he going to fix this? What was he going to do? School started tomorrow. Would Dean try picking Castiel up? Would he try talking to him in homeroom? What if they had the same lunch? Would Castiel even go to the cafeteria? Would he even look Dean in the eyes? Would he allow Dean to walk him to classes? Surely he didn't mean it when he told Dean not to talk to him? He  _couldn't_  mean it. Not after everything they had been through.

Their friendship had been crafted so carefully- so perfectly. They had molded it into ways that were comfortable for them- carefully pressing and shaping to create the way their paths intertwined. Things had been good. Things had been right. But just one mistake destroyed all that. Just one stupid mistake shattered their delicately crafted friendship, resorting it to a crumbled, pitiful mess with too many tiny pieces to return it to the giant creation it had once been.

Dean didn't want to return to being strangers. He couldn't live like that. Castiel was the most important person in his life, behind Sammy. Hell, Dean needed him more than he needed his father. He would never be able to live without Cas. He needed to let him know how sorry he truly was. But  _how?_

As far as Dean knew, he had screwed this up beyond repair. Maybe there was no fixing this. Maybe this was meant to be.

Maybe it was time to move on.

* * *

Hours after Cas left, the doorbell rang. Dean's heart leaped with hope.  _Could it be Cas?_  he couldn't help but think as he practically ran to the door from his room. When he opened it, though, he was greeted by five feet and four inches of a very furious blond girl.

"What the fucking hell, Dean!" Jo exclaimed as she walked into the house, hands balled into fists at her sides before she shoved him back roughly. She glared up at Dean, pissed beyond reason. Dean obliged to the assault, letting himself get pushed back when Jo shoved at him, again. She was panting and out of breath. Dean instantly realized she had walked all the way here, fueled by a white hot rage. Jo was not here to hear about how Castiel was. She was here to put Dean in his place. And Dean knew he deserved everything Jo was about to say. "Are you fucking  _serious?_ " she exclaimed.

Dean licked his dry lips, looking anywhere but at his friend. "So he told you, huh?"

Jo's jaw clenched and she punched at Dean's chest, tears in her eyes as she put her full energy into the punch. "I can't  _believe_  you, Dean! So Castiel finally gets the courage to do what you've been too much of a fucking  _wimp_  to do, and you  _shove him away?_ " Jo accused, voice shrill with rage as she sent another push, letting out her anger. "I just  _can't believe you!_  How could you! How fucking  _dare_ you treat him like that!"

Dean's heart felt heavy in his chest. He knew what she was saying was true, so he didn't protest. If he was going to be completely honest with himself, he didn't even know what to say to his friend.

"Is this because of Meg? Because I'll have you know that he never loved her more than he loved you, Dean! And you know what?  _Fuck you_ for thinking he did and treating him like shit when you went ahead and fucked as many girls as you pleased! How could you blame him for not wanting to get hurt? How could you fucking act as though he had done something wrong? How much of a fucking  _hypocrite_  can you be?! Honestly, I'm just fucking  _pissed_ I can't even-"

"I know," Dean murmured weakly. He was suddenly glad Sammy wasn't here to listen to this, having left a few hours previous to a friend's house. "I'm sorry," Dean tried, looking into Jo's brown eyes.

She only scoffed. "You know what? I don't think you really are," Jo hissed, glaring at him. "If you were really sorry then I wouldn't have to be here," Jo pointed out. "You'd better fix this, Dean. Or at least tell him you're sorry and make it one hell of a good apology. Castiel deserves better than this, and I swear if you hurt him one more time I will unleash all of hell onto you," Jo threatened, tears falling down her cheeks despite her vicious demeanor.

"I  _will_  fix this," Dean promised, eyebrows furrowed as he searched Jo's eyes. Dean had screwed up more than he realized. He could see that in Jo's behavior. There was something more that Dean didn't know.

"You'd better," Jo retorted, wiping an arm stubbornly over her cheeks to rid herself of her tears. "I'm gonna go," the blond stated, making her way to the door with a sharp turn of her heel.

"Let me drive you, Jo," Dean offered, wanting to do something-  _anything_  to start making things right. But Jo just turned around to fix a glare on her friend.

"No. Just- just leave me alone for now," Jo instructed. "I'll see you at school," she murmured halfheartedly before walking out of the house, shutting the door harder than necessary on her way out.

It was only morning, and Dean had already managed to get two of his closest friends to utterly despise him.

He was alone.


	23. Move On

" _Castiel?_ " Mr. Novak's voice rung out from the living room. "Come here, this instant!"

Castiel felt his heart stop in his chest and his breath catch in his throat. His dad wasn't supposed to be home until Monday. Castiel was supposed to have more time to prepare from this. He wasn't supposed to be this significantly hungover when his father was home and pissed. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Castiel walked into the living room. His father was standing by the fireplace, looking into it before he moved his gaze to his son.

"Yes, sir?" Castiel spoke softly.

Castiel's father raised his head, looking at Castiel with an inexpressive gaze. "Where were you?" he asked.

Castiel met his father's gaze. "Out for a walk," Castiel answered evenly. He swallowed back the lump in his throat when his father's eyes narrowed. "Is something the matter?" he asked, trying not to fidget.

Mr. Novak walked closer until he was merely an arm's reach away from his son. Castiel suppressed the urge to back away. "Have you been going through the cupboard?" the man's cool and calm voice questioned.

Castiel's heart was hammering, now, and he hoped his father couldn't hear it. "The cupboard?" he asked, trying to play dumb.

His father sneered, stepping even closer in a threatening manner. "Do not be stupid, Castiel. The bottle of whiskey I kept there. It's missing. Tell me where it is," he hissed.

Castiel was probably shaking, but he managed to swallow a deep breath. "I don't know," he lied, his voice small.

Suddenly, a fist connected with Castiel's cheek, catching him so off guard that he fell to the floor. A sharp snap of electric pain travelled through Castiel's skull, shaking his jaw and aching his neck. Just as he raised a hand to cradle his injury, Castiel's father grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up. "Don't fucking lie to me," he growled, dark brown eyes looking into blue ones. "You drank it, didn't you? You ungrateful little brat," he accused before shoving Castiel back to the ground. "Answer me!" he yelled when Castiel made no effort to get up.

Pushing back the tears of pain, Castiel got up, looking up into his father's eyes. "I did," he whispered, flinching when the taller man advanced on him. "I'm sorry," Castiel apologized, although he wasn't really. He just didn't want to get punched, again.

That didn't help, though. Mr. Novak sent another fist at Castiel's cheek, hitting his eye instead when Castiel tried to duck. The teen cried out loud in pain, falling onto his knees where he put a hand over his eye, fingers trembling with the burning shock that ran through his body, pulsing in his eye.

With a few insulting murmurs, and a panicked defense of "you shouldn't have moved", Castiel's father exited the room quickly, leaving Castiel alone to nurse his bruises. The pain was indescribable. His eye was pulsing with sharp aches, and his headache had increased. Resisting the urge to cry, since it hurt his eye too much, Castiel listened for his father, pleased when he heard him go to his office. The teen got up and went to the kitchen to retrieve a bag of ice and paper towel, pressing it to his left eye as he walked shakily up the stairs to his room, gripping onto the railing since he was rather dizzy from the blow.

When he made it to his room, Castiel placed his ice pack on his desk and ran to the bathroom where he proceeded to throw up. The process was rather painful, since Castiel had no food or drink to eject. It was all stomach acid that burned horribly at his throat and mouth. After he was finished, Castiel leaned against the toilet seat, in too much pain to move.

Suddenly, a faint memory came to him: a warm hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles as Castiel leaned over a toilet bowl, sick to his stomach. He didn't know where the memory came from, since he was pretty sure he never had anyone with him while he threw up, before.

Maybe… last night?

No. No, Castiel didn't want to think about that. He couldn't think about that.

Forcing himself up, Castiel rinsed his mouth before looking in the mirror. His eye was already beginning to swell, and Castiel drew his lips into a line when they began to quiver. How was he supposed to go back to work with this? He needed to use his cover up for his cuts, since he picked up on that, again. Would Ellen get mad if Castiel showed up with bruises? They'd have settled by Wednesday, but it still wasn't professional. He didn't want people to think that Ellen hired delinquents. Even though Ellen wouldn't openly display her distaste at Castiel's bruises, he knew that it would still affect her diner.

What was he going to do?

Castiel was a walking mess. He had probably brought the diner more trouble rather than good, recently. He wasn't worth keeping. Maybe he should just quit… maybe he should run away, while he was at it.

There was nothing left for Castiel, here. His father now hated him more than before. Dean wasn't his friend anymore. Castiel would lose his job. School would return to being hell, since the group would probably prefer Dean's company over Castiel's. He had to be realistic. Dean was a lot more charming and pleasant to be around than Castiel was.

Castiel's chin wrinkled as he held back a sob, his eyes gathering with tears despite his efforts. He was so pathetic.

Swallowing back the bitter taste in his throat, Castiel went back to his room where he picked up his ice pack and pressed it against his eye, hoping that by tomorrow the swelling would reduce.

He might want to run away and start anew, but Castiel knew he'd never have the guts. He'd just have to suck it up and face whatever got thrown at him next. No matter what it may do to him.

* * *

To say Castiel was nervous would be an understatement. Castiel was downright terrified as he walked into homeroom on Monday morning. He had covered his bruises with some cover up, promising himself he'd buy some more later. It worked well, and after a couple of painful minutes of blending, the bruises were practically nonexistent. The ice pack had also worked wonders at preventing swelling, which Castiel was grateful for. That didn't quench his nerve-racking anxiety, though.

Dean was sitting at his usual seat next to Castiel's in homeroom, and when he walked in the blond looked up at Castiel hopefully. Their eyes met for a second before Castiel tore his gaze away.

Clenching his jaw to prevent himself from shaking, Castiel took a seat on the other side of the room. He could almost hear Dean's shoulders slump. The homeroom didn't seem to notice their little seating change, though. The only one who paid them any attention was Gordon, and his gaze quickly diverted to his cell phone where he tapped rapidly, an amused grin on his face before he turned to talk to some blond cheerleader.

Castiel ignored it, though. Surely he was over-observing. He was just anxious.

So after gathering his schedule from Mr. Dawson at the end of homeroom, Castiel made his way out into the hallway where he walked to trigonometry, his new first class of the day.

Castiel's phone vibrated with messages, and Castiel took it out of his pocket, deleting the ones from Dean without opening them before he read Jo's message.

_Jo: What pr. do you have lunch?_

Castiel glimpsed at his schedule as he walked into trigonometry.

_Castiel: Fourth. Same as last semester. How about you?_

"Cas!" Chuck called out from the back corner of the room, waving at Castiel with a smile. Castiel smiled wide, happy to see a familiar face. He took a seat by his friend.

"Hello, Chuck," Castiel greeted, already starting to feel better. "How was your break?" he asked.

Chuck smiled. "So much better thanks to the blizzard. How about you? I haven't seen you since Charlie's party," Chuck recalled, facing himself towards his friend in his desk.

Castiel shrugged. "I was busy with work for a while. Then I- uh, got sick." Castiel lied.

Chuck's eyebrows furrowed. "Dude, that sucks. I'm sorry."

Licking his lips, Castiel offered a sheepish smile. "It's not too bad. I'm feeling better, now. Hey, what lunch class have you got this semester?"

"Same as last. You?"

Castiel smiled. "Me, too. Do you- uh, do you know if any of the others have the same lunch class?" Castiel asked. He needed to know if he'd have to be skipping lunch, today.

Chuck made a concentrating face, blue eyes looking up as he searched through his thoughts. "Uhhh, well, so far I think Adam, Charlie and Dean have fourth lunch," Chuck recalled with a nod. "Not sure about Jo and Ash, yet," he reported.

Feeling his heart start, Castiel nodded. "Oh- okay."

Chuck gave a smile. "We're gonna have to get to lunch early to claim our table before the freshman do," the brunette spoke before turning to avert his attention to the front of the room when the teacher started talking. "Hey, hand me your schedule. 'Wanna see if we have any more classes, together," Chuck whispered, holding out a hand to Castiel.

It turned out that math and lunch were the only classes Chuck and Castiel shared. The brunette expressed his distaste towards the fact that they were one period away from sharing Health. Castiel had it right after Chuck did, and with the same teacher, too.

The two friends worked on math problems together (although the teacher strictly said the assignment was individual), and by the end of class Chuck bid Castiel a farewell, telling him he would see him at lunch. Castiel had given him a weak smile, agreeing.

And now Castiel was walking to Chemistry, trying to tame the churning in his stomach. When he got there, he took a seat at a lab table, anxiously watching the door, practically waiting for Dean to walk in.

He didn't though, and instead Charlie did. She had squealed very loudly when she saw Castiel, and she bounded towards his table, sitting right next to him.

"Cas!" she exclaimed before giving him a bone-crushing hug. "Dude, I missed you so much! Where've you been?" she asked, pulling away as she looked at her friend.

Castiel gave the redhead a smile. "Sick," he replied.

Charlie looked concerned. "Aw! Well, that sucks. But, hey, I'm glad I don't have to suffer through chem alone. I always get paired up with some moron," Charlie spoke with an eye roll. Then she smiled. "You and I are gonna ace these labs," she spoke confidently.

Castiel gave a laugh. "Well, of course we will," he agreed, giving Charlie a grin.

They compared schedules, and Charlie was overrun with glee when it turned out that they had health together next period. Castiel was relieved, as well. His schedule this semester was much better than his previous one. He also learned that Jo and Ash had the same lunch as the rest of the group. When Charlie asked if he knew if Dean did, Castiel said he had no idea. She found that to be strange, since the two shared a homeroom. Castiel hadn't commented on that.

When stress of chemistry was over and the two friends were piled with homework, they made their way to health, grateful for a relaxing period. Health was never very hard, and the two friends had been given an easy teacher that was rumored to show videos four out of five days of the week. Castiel was feeling really great as he walked by Charlie in the halls.

And his heart almost stopped when they crossed by Dean on the way to class.

"Dean!" Charlie called happily, waving a hand. Castiel could have smacked the back of her head at that moment, given the pure terror that ran through his veins.

Dean's gaze averted to them, and he paused in the hallway, schedule in hand. His gaze flicked to Castiel before he looked back at Charlie and gave a small, nervous smile along with a wave. Castiel hoped that they would leave it at that, but Charlie grabbed onto the sleeve of Castiel's sweater as she dragged him towards the blond boy.

Dean seemed shocked, looking like he was debating on trying to escape. But he just gave another stiff smile. "Hey, Charlie… Cas," he spoke, glancing at Castiel, again.

"Dean, let me see your schedule," Charlie commanded, a smile on her face as she grabbed the white paper when Dean handed it to her. "Do you have lunch with us?" she asked, comparing their schedules.

Dean's eyebrows were furrowed. "Us?" he asked, looking at Castiel quickly before looking back at Charlie.

Charlie raised an eyebrow as she looked up from the schedule, giving Dean a weird look before returning her gaze to it. "Uh,  _yeah_. Everybody's got fourth. And, hey, there we go. You do, too!" Charlie exclaimed. "And, dude, we've got trig together sixth period!" Charlie exclaimed with a smile. Castiel almost breathed out a sigh of relief. Another class down that he didn't have to share with Dean. Now that just left fifth and seventh.

Castiel tried not to peek at Dean's schedule, resisting his curiosity. "Uh, we should get going, Charlie," Castiel spoke, grabbing onto the redhead's arm and prying her away.

Charlie was confused, but she handed Dean back his schedule. "See you at lunch, Dean!" she told him. Dean gave a smile before walking away. "That was weird," Charlie noted as the two walked to health class. "Did he seem kinda off to you?" she asked Castiel, looking up at him.

Castiel shrugged. "I didn't notice," he lied. It seemed like he was doing that a lot, today.

Charlie inspected her friend for a moment. "Y'know, normally when Dean's around you he's like a hyper puppy. Now he just seemed… kinda-"

Castiel held open the door to their classroom, gesturing for Charlie to go in. She was momentarily distracted until they found a table to sit at.

"-upset," she finished. "Like… I don't know. It was just kinda weird."

"Probably just a rough morning," Castiel murmured, staring down the teacher as if telepathically demanding her to start the freaking class, already.

Charlie let out a hum, shrugging with indifference. "Whatever. Maybe he'll come around at lunch."

Castiel didn't answer her, this time.

* * *

When lunch rolled by, Dean couldn't get himself to go. His day had completely sucked, and was kinda depressing. Dean had his first two classes with Jo, and she had been incredibly cold to him throughout them. It had hurt more than Dean would like to admit, but he didn't let it show as he tried to act as if things were normal.

Right before his third class, when Dean had bumped into Cas and Charlie in the halls, he could almost feel his heart completely fucking rip apart.

Cas looked… really happy.

Like,  _really fucking happy._

Dean had never seen Cas like that, before. He seemed so carefree and his smile was so bright and cheerful, and… it was as though everything that had gone on between them didn't matter. Castiel had already moved on, and Dean was stuck here trying to come up with ways he could say sorry to the bastard.

It made Dean feel like a needy piece of crap.

It only took Castiel a day to move on. It only took him a day when it'd probably take Dean the rest of his life. Castiel didn't need Dean. Not as much as Dean needed Cas.

That just really hurt.

During third period, Dean didn't have anybody he knew to sit with. So he ended up sitting in the back of the class and working with some kid that gave him the whole "pity treatment", leaving his group of friends to work with Dean, instead. The kid's name was Garth, or something like that. He was okay, but Dean just felt so pathetic being given those "it'll be okay" eyes.

By fourth period, Dean's spirit was completely crushed. He had begun walking to the lunchroom, but when he saw Cas, Charlie, and Ash all walking there and laughing, Dean had immediately turned around. Maybe Cas was better off without him… maybe it was time for Dean to get over it, too.

And that's what lead him to sit in the library after he tossed his lunch into a trashcan, losing his appetite, completely.

While Dean was sitting at a library table sulking in his self-pity, a person called out to him.

" _Dean?_ " the familiar voice spoke.

Dean looked up to see Lisa. She looked confused, her eyebrows drawn together and chocolate brown eyes inspecting the blond. She was wearing a light pink sweater that clung to her frame, outlining her curves. Dean almost wished he could care.

"Hey, Lisa," Dean mumbled, not really feeling in the mood to pretend to be happy. The brunette looked concerned, and Dean almost smacked himself. He was so sick of drawing that look from people.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked. The cheerleader had stopped by Dean's table, a few thick books in her hands. She was wearing glasses that looked like Castiel's.

Dean licked his lips, looking away. "Avoiding lunch, I guess. How 'bout you?"

Lisa raised an eyebrow. "I help out in the library during my lunch period. Volunteer hours," she clarified. Dean grunted in acknowledgement, wanting her to leave already so he could wallow in pity alone, again. She looked around before looking back at Dean. "Mind if I sit?" she asked.

Dean shrugged. "Go for it," he told her, gesturing towards an empty chair at the table he was sitting at.

Lisa placed her books down on the wooden table, sitting on the metal chair. "Why are you avoiding lunch?" she asked, leaning forward. "Is everything okay?"

Dean looked up into Lisa's eyes, shocked that she genuinely cared. "Uh, yeah. Everything's fine," Dean answered, giving a smile.

Lisa wasn't convinced. She frowned at Dean before looking down at the table. "You know, Dean, I may not have really given myself a good first impression last semester, but…" she looked up at Dean, almost embarrassed. "I'm really not like Alastair and the others," the brunette admitted.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I never thought you were," he told her. She seemed relieved.

"I know he's been giving you trouble… I tried to tell him to lay off, but he got all pissed. I don't know… I kinda left that crowd a while ago. It didn't feel right to hang around them," she explained. Dean gazed at her curiously.

"Well… that's good, I guess. Thanks."

Lisa sighed. "Are… are we, like, not supposed to talk?" she asked, looking up into Dean's eyes.

Dean automatically felt guilty under the stare of the cheerleader. He  _had_  ignored her call after their one night stand. "No- of course not. Why do you think that?" he asked, eyebrows drawn together as he sat up straighter.

"I guess I just… thought you were avoiding me, y'know?" She murmured with a lift of her shoulder. "Anyways, that's not the point," she spoke before Dean could respond. "Even though you say you're okay, I can tell you're upset. And… well, I guess if you don't have anybody to talk to... I'm here, okay? I know you've got your group of friends, but-" Lisa shrugged.

Dean almost surprised himself when he smiled- genuine, this time. "Thanks, Lisa," he replied, honesty lacing his voice. He actually felt a lot better.

Lisa gave him a smile, happy with the blond's reaction. "No problem," she responded. Then she got up, picking up her books. "Well, I gotta go file these. Go to lunch with your friends, okay? I'm sure they miss your company," she assured with a soft smile.

Dean nodded, but didn't make an attempt to head to the lunchroom. He did get up, though, taking a few books from Lisa's hands (they were really freaking heavy). "Do you think I could help you with these?" he asked, looking into the girl's eyes.

Lisa was shocked, but a grin instantly lifted the corners of her lips, revealing pearly white teeth. "Uh, yeah, sure," she replied. "But, Dean," she began when Dean began inspecting the spine of them to see where they belonged. Dean looked at Lisa.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not trying to… you know,  _get_  anything," she spoke, giving Dean a look. Dean blushed.

"Oh- I, uh, I wasn't trying to-"

Lisa laughed. "Yeah, I know. I'm just trying to make that clear so you don't… I don't know, misinterpret anything."

Dean smiled. "Just friends. Got it," he spoke with a nod. Lisa smiled.

"Good. Those go in the shelves over there."

* * *

By the time lunch was over, Lisa had invited Dean to sit with her and her friend Molly during seventh period. Dean had agreed, needing a distraction since it was Mrs. Madison's class. God knows that class would give him too many goddamned memories.

He had no idea how true that would be.

Castiel was in that class, and he sat in the back in the usual seat that he sat in. Dean's heart nearly froze in his chest. Lisa noticed.

"You okay?" she asked, guiding him by the elbow to a seat on the left side of the classroom, practically the opposite side of the class. She looked over at where Dean's gaze had been. "Aren't you and Castiel friends? Do you wanna sit with him?"

Dean shook his head, probably too fast. "No- uh, no, I'm gonna sit with you," he murmured.

Biting her lip, Lisa nodded. She decided not to ask any questions.

The class went by horribly. Dean kept looking over at Castiel, but the dark-haired teen never looked back at him. It was almost as if Dean didn't exist.

So Dean spoke with Lisa and Molly, writing with them on a worksheet that got passed around.

Castiel wasn't working with anybody, Dean noticed.

And he fought back the urge to go sit next to Castiel and work with him, just like he had on that first day of class.

Lisa did a good job of distracting Dean. She could tell what was up without asking, and so she worked hard to avert Dean's attention with the work and with catching up on how things have been, telling him about her break. Dean appreciated that, and he let her know with his grateful smile.

When class was over, Castiel sped off. Dean watched him leave with a bit of remorse, wishing that things could just go back to fucking normal.

"Dean?" Mrs. Madison called from her desk. "Could I have a word with you, please?" she asked.

Dean nodded, bidding Lisa and Molly a farewell. They both smiled, telling him they'd see him tomorrow.

When the class was empty, Dean walked over to the English teacher's desk. "Yes?" he asked, really wanting to just get to his car so he could go home.

Mrs. Madison gestured to a chair near her desk. "Sit down for a moment," she insisted. Biting his lower lip, Dean obliged. "Now, I know it's not really my place to ask… but is everything alright between you and Castiel?" she asked, her blue eyes concerned. Castiel looked a lot like her, Dean noted.

Deciding that it was best not to lie, Dean sighed. "No- uh, not really. He's kinda pissed at me, actually," Dean admitted, feeling a little bit better from telling this to somebody.

Mrs. Madison's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "Castiel never gets angry with anyone. Surely you must be-"

"No- I, uh, I did something really bad. And I can't really fix it. There's… there's no way that I can fix it," Dean spoke, feeling his heart pound in his chest. It did that a lot, lately.

The teacher leaned forward on her desk, fingers clasped. "There's always a way, Dean. You care about Castiel, don't you?" she asked.

Dean looked up at her. "Of course," he replied automatically.

She smiled slightly. "Then just give it time. And don't give up, alright? I'm… I'm telling you this, because I know you're good for him. I've seen the way he's changed around you. And I know that he's happier when you're around," Mrs. Madison admitted. "Please… if you care about him, do not give up on him so easily," the woman seemed to beg.

Dean only nodded, his eyes growing careful. A thought came to him. "Hey, can I ask you something?" he spoke up. When teacher nodded, Dean spoke. "So, Cas told me that you two are basically church buddies or whatever," Dean murmured, squirming in his seat. "But- well, I mean, I was just wondering how you… well you two seem really close, and I was just-"

"Dean," Mrs. Madison interrupted with a smile. "I'm Castiel's aunt," she explained.

Dean's eyes widened. "Wh-  _really?_ " he couldn't help but ask.

Her smile widened and she laughed slightly. "Yes, really," she replied. "I'm his father's sister."

Dean blinked. "Oh. He… never told me that," Dean murmured. There must be a lot of things that Castiel had never told Dean.

Mrs. Madison smiled sympathetically, noticing the blond's disappointment. "Do not feel bad. Castiel isn't one to share much about himself," she reassured.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I noticed," he replied bitterly. Dean glanced at the clock. "Uh, well, I gotta go pick up my little brother," Dean spoke, getting up.

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow, Dean."

The blond managed a smile before walking out the door.

* * *

Castiel's day had been great until his last class. Dean hadn't shown up to lunch, which made things a lot less awkward. Chuck had informed the table that Dean had texted him saying he couldn't make it because he had stuff to do. Everyone accepted the excuse, and didn't think much of it. Castiel knew better, though. So did Jo, and they both shared an uneasy look at some point during lunch.

If he was going to be honest, Castiel missed Dean's company a lot more than he let on. He missed the way Dean would sling his arm around him. He missed the way Dean's eyes shone and crinkled when he laughed. He missed sitting so close to Dean that they were basically pressed against one another. He missed having Dean look at him so happily. He missed hearing his voice speak to him about things that probably weren't important but still mattered so much to Castiel. He missed the mental connection the two had shared. But things couldn't be the way they were. There was no way.

So Castiel repressed the tightness of his throat and the tingling in his eyes as he walked through the halls, which were mostly empty, at this point. He just wanted to go home and stop thinking about everything for a little bit. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to forget.

Halfway down the hall, though, hands shoved Castiel into a locker before they pinned him there.

"Well hello there, Cassie. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Alastair sneered, looking particularly giddy. "Where's Winchester the watch dog?" he asked, pressing Castiel tighter against the locker and drawing out a pained gasp from the smaller teen.

Castiel licked his dry lips, looking into Alastair's menacing eyes as he tried to calm his racing heart. "Not here," he replied gruffly.

Alastair smirked. "Now, what I heard was that Winchester got tired of you.  _I_ heard he ditched ya," the teen growled. "Was about time, too. Glad he came to his senses," Alastair spoke with an eye roll. "Although, I don't think I'll be taking him back. Still gotta teach you two a lesson. Remember the suspension I had to go through? It lasted for  _three fucking weeks_. And while I was taking some time off, I thought of so many ways I could… repay you," Alastair said with a toothy smile. "I got pretty creative, Cassie. You'd be surprised."

Castiel's mouth went dry, and he suddenly felt very cold. "Let me go, Alastair," Castiel demanded, although his voice was shaky.

"Why should I?" Alastair retorted, raising his head as he looked down on Castiel. "Give me one reason."

"You'll get in trouble, again," Castiel replied.

Alastair snorted. "By who? I don't see any teachers around."

Castiel took a glance around the halls. He was right. In fact, they were completely alone. Everyone had gone home.

Squeezing his eyes closed, Castiel took a deep breath before he looked at Alastair. Before he could speak, though, a voice interrupted him.

It was Dean.

* * *

 

 

Dean was walking to the parking lot when he saw it- Alastair pinning Castiel to a locker, murmuring things that Dean couldn't pick up on. He quickly looked around for a teacher, but didn't find any. So, gathering his courage, Dean called out as he advanced towards the two. "Hey! Let him the fuck go!"

Castiel looked at Dean with wide eyes, surprised at his sudden appearance.

Alastair sneered. "You gonna make me?"

Dean glared. "Don't tempt me, you dick."

That only made Alastair smile, though. He kneed Castiel in the stomach, throwing him to the ground where the teen gasped for breath, shocked with the unexpected attack.

Alastair threw a fist at Dean, and the blond dodged it so he could get to Castiel. While he wasn't looking Alastair grabbed at Dean from behind, squeezing him in a choke hold. "You gonna give up?" Alastair hissed in his ear, and Dean could practically hear the smirk in his voice. Dean grit his teeth. Alastair's arm was tight against Dean's throat- cutting off his breathing and making him grow dizzy.

Quickly, Dean reached a hand to push up on Alastair's elbow, forcing his arm off as he twisted him around, a firm hold on his wrist and arm. Dean quickly kicked Alastair to the ground, hard. "Get the fuck out of here," Dean panted, beyond pissed as he composed himself. " _Now_ ," he demanded when Alastair glared.

Alastair got up, shoving Dean away. "You're going to regret this. Both of you. You guys are going to fucking wish you were  _dead_ ," Alastair threatened with a glare before stalking off.

Dean made his way to Castiel, holding out a hand to him. The dark-haired teen had an arm around his abdomen, and he was clearly in pain. "Here, let me-"

Castiel quickly got up, backing away from Dean as he wore a guarded expression. "I had everything under control," Castiel defended, staring hard into Dean's eyes.

Dean couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "That's not what it looked like, to me," he replied. Oh, God. Why was he arguing with him? He should be glad Castiel even acknowledged him, and there he went- screwing things up, again.

Castiel glared. "I don't need you to take care of me," he growled when Dean tried to take a step forward.

Dean drew his eyebrows together, his mouth agape. "I was just trying to  _help_."

"And I didn't want your help," Castiel retorted. "I told you to leave me alone, Dean. And I mean it. Just… just  _stop_ ," Castiel told him, his voice almost begging.

They made eye contact for a moment, and Dean could almost see how broken Castiel was. He could see that he was trying not to get close to Dean, again. Castiel thought Dean would just hurt him- just like before. Tearing his blue eyes off of Dean's, the teen picked up his discarded backpack and turned around, starting to walk away.

That had sent Dean panicking.

"Cas,  _please_ ," Dean called out, grabbing at Castiel's arm as he suddenly grew desperate.

The teen hissed in what seemed like pain, jerking his arm out of Dean's grasp. " _Don't._ Just  _don't_. Don't touch me," he demanded, looking anxiously into Dean's eyes before running off and out of sight.

Dean was left feeling more hopeless than before.


	24. Alone

January was cold. February was colder. When March drawled by, it chased away all hopes of spring with its arrival, stubbornly barring the sun's visit with the deathly cold grasp of a prolonged winter.

As the days slowly turned into weeks and blurred into months, Castiel and Dean grew further apart. Dean started to stray away from the group, as well. He couldn't bring himself to interact with them, especially since that meant he'd have to be around Castiel.

Dean sat with Lisa's group during lunch. They were all kind to him, and let him into their table without question, even though Lisa wasn't there to make them. Dean didn't stick around the cafeteria too much, though. It hurt to look over at the table his friends sat at, and see them and Castiel seeming happy and fine without him.

Lisa still worked at the library during lunch, and most days Dean would sneak her some food and help her organize books. He didn't accept the volunteer hours when the school librarian tried to sign him up for it, since he wasn't going to be working there every day. He was honestly just doing it for the hell of it. It was a good distraction, just chatting with Lisa about random things as they worked around the library. Pretty soon, the librarian grew accustomed to his usual visits, not even bothering to ask for a hall pass, anymore.

It wasn't the ideal way of living that Dean had in mind, but it was a hell of a lot better than the alternative, which was basically him not having any friends to be around, at all.

Everyone from his old group texted him. They asked him what was going on and why he wasn't hanging out with them, anymore. And each and every one of them confronted him in person, whether at school or dropping by his house. But Dean didn't want to cause Cas any trouble, so he just ignored them. After the fourth week of no response and after they persisted with visits to Dean's house, ringing on the doorbell constantly, they stopped trying.

Jo grew even more distant during the classes Dean shared with her. Soon, they stopped talking altogether. Charlie attempted to work with Dean during sixth period, but when he became more refrained from speaking in their conversations she stopped talking to him after the fifth week. Charlie was very reluctant, Dean might add. She tried harder than anybody to convince Dean to sit with everyone during lunch. When Dean said no, she'd continuously ask why, her eyes looking so hurt. And each time Dean would tell her that he can't say.

Dean drank a lot more, recently.

He knew it wasn't the right thing to do, especially after the whole incident with Castiel. But, in all honesty, he couldn't help himself. It was the only way he could forget long enough to go to sleep at night.

Sammy found the beer and vodka bottles in Dean's room one night on the first of March.

It had been a tough day for Dean. He had tried talking to Castiel during and after seventh period, but the dark-haired teen completely brushed passed him, giving him the cold shoulder no matter what approach Dean tried. That had left him feeling empty, and he could barely put any enthusiasm into work later on that day. He ended up screwing up so much that Rufus sent him home, telling him to get some rest. Dean had protested, not wanting to go home. He wanted to be distracted, he needed to work. But Rufus had denied him, and practically shoved him out the door.

He had been particularly wasted when Sammy came into his room (without knocking, Dean would defend).

" _Dean?_ " Sam exclaimed when his wide green eyes landed on the bottle in Dean's hand. "What the hell are you doing?" Sam questioned as he walked into the room. Sam was growing taller. He was breaching being only half a foot shorter than Dean, now.

"Just havin' a drink, Sammy," Dean slurred, sitting up on his bed, and swaying a bit. "Calm down," he added when Sam's jaw dropped.

"Dude, that reeks! Are you drinking that on its own?" he asked, taking the bottle from Dean's hand. "That's  _vodka_. Where did you get this?"

Dean reached for the bottle, but Sam pulled away. "Give it back. It ain't your business," Dean defended, glaring at his brother before making another grab for it. He didn't reach, again, his hand stretching out embarrassingly far away from his goal.

Sam's jaw clenched, and he took the other vodka bottle Dean had on the nightstand before leaving the room.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Dean called out as he got up, staggering after his brother. He found him in the bathroom, dumping out the alcohol into the sink. "What the fuck, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed as he got to his brother, trying to take the second bottle that Sam was currently dumping. "Fuck-  _stop!_ I spent my money on that!" Dean yelled, trying to reach the bottle. But Sam faced his back to Dean, blocking him from access to the sink.

"You don't need these," Sam murmured, tossing the now empty bottles in the trashcan before turning around to fix an angry glare at his older brother. "What the hell were you thinking?" 

Dean scoffed. "I was thinking I deserve a goddamn break, that's what! Fucking- everything is gone to fucking crap and now you owe me forty dollars." Dean walked out of the bathroom, going to his room to be alone. Sam followed him, more persistent than ever.

"Why were you drinking, Dean?" Sam asked desperately, his eyes pleading. Dean could tell he was scared. He wanted to comfort his younger brother, but Dean couldn't find his kindness underneath all the harsh liquor inside him.

The blond paced the room, swaying in his step until he decided to sit down when the room started to spin. He ran a hand through his hair before he spoke. "Because things suck, that's why," Dean spoke, looking away from his brother.

"So, what, you're drinking away your problems?!" Sam yelled, arms outstretched. "Dean- are you  _trying_ to end up like Dad?" he exclaimed.

Dean stood up at that. "Don't you dare," he hissed, taking a step towards his brother. "Don't you even dare fucking compare me to him. I am  _not_ Dad, okay?" Dean snapped.

Sam searched his brother's eyes. "It's Cas, isn't it?" he asked.

Dean's eyes widened. "What are you-"

"He hasn't been over. You haven't gone out. Cas isn't even answering my text messages," Sam listed, looking at his brother with a now solemn expression. There it was. There was that fucking sympathy. "Dean, are you two fighting?"

Dean's jaw clenched, his eyes starting to sting. "Don't, Sam. I don't wanna talk about it."

"Is he mad at you?" Sam persisted.

Something in Dean snapped, and he shoved at a lamp on his desk, making it fall to the floor where it shattered. Sam jumped, gazing at Dean with wide eyes from the unexpected outburst. " _I said I don't want to talk about it!_ " Dean yelled. "Damnit, Sam!" he added as he collapsed onto his bed, cradling his head in his hands.

"Dean-"

"Just get the fuck out of my room," Dean murmured, pinching his temple where a headache was starting to bloom.

"But-"

" _Leave!_ " Dean yelled, throwing a pillow from his bed at his little brother.

With a hard expression encompassing his face, Sam turned around and left, closing Dean's door. And now that he was alone, Dean laid back in his bed, burying himself from head to toe in sheets and blankets.

Dean wanted to move so bad. His father had visited them in the end of January, prolonging his visit to the start of February. He had not missed Dean's obvious depression, but he hadn't commented on it, instead bringing up the Impala and asking Dean about his new job at the auto shop. It had served the purpose John had intended, and momentarily distracted Dean from his many predicaments. It didn't help him when night came and Dean laid in bed, gazing blank-eyed at the ceiling as millions of thoughts ran through his mind. Later on, Dean had asked John how much longer they'd be staying. He made it clear in his tone that he wanted out as soon as possible.

John had assured Dean it would be soon, and he tried to cheer him up by telling him he'd be visiting them again on the third of April. Sam had been excited about that, but the news only served to make Dean even more anxious.

Dean felt lonely. He felt so incredibly lonely. He missed his friends. He missed Cas. He missed the way things were. There was a gaping hole inside of him that Dean pathetically tried to fill with liquor and movie nights with Sammy. But even spending time with his little brother didn't help. Sam already had a part of Dean's heart. This was a completely different part that needed friendship or at least closure with Castiel. Lisa's friends were nice, but it wasn't the same. Jo, Chuck, Ash, Adam, Charlie, and Cas were all Dean's first friends. They were the first people that Dean had ever gotten to know.

Damnit, this was why Dean didn't grow attached. Because of stupid crap like this. Things were so much easier when it was just him and Sam. Dean just  _had_ to let his barrier slip. He just  _had_  to get curious and grow close. He just  _had_  to fall for those goddamn blue eyes and that stupid voice and the feeling Dean got when he was around that stupid dumb bastard. The blond held his breath as he thought about the way Castiel had felt against him when they kissed. The way it seemed as if their bodies were made for each other- lips merging perfectly and hands settled in just the right spots, skin giving way for their touches and presses.

Why had he let that go?

That thought haunted Dean in the entire two months that had passed. Every night he would stay up wondering how things between Castiel and Dean would be if he had not pushed him away. He wondered how many more times they would have kissed after that- how much more time they would have spent together. He wondered if they would have gone on dates or held hands or skipped out on classes to just be with each other.

Dean wondered and wondered about how amazing it would have been. And the scariest thought of all- the one that caused his breath to catch and his heart to race- was wondering  _how much time Dean had already wasted._  How much time had Dean spent fighting with Cas when he could be with him?

Dean would never be able to get these past months back. He would never be able to fix his mistakes. He could try, but it had already been done. All he could do, now, was try and show Cas how sorry he truly was.

But he didn't know how.

It was surely too late. Dean had waited too long. He hadn't tried hard enough when the time was right, and now he'd missed his opportunity. He wasn't friends with any of the group, anymore. It would be too late to go back to them- too late to try and say sorry. There would be too many unanswered questions and hurt feelings.

It was just too late.

For the upteenth time since the incident, Dean took his phone out of his pocket, clicking on his photo album. He looked through the photos from the New Year's party that Jo had sent him. There were so many pictures of him and Cas- even ones that Dean hadn't known were being taken. He must've scrolled through those photos hundreds of times, and each time he wanted to scold himself for being so pathetic when he felt butterflies flutter about in his stomach. But he couldn't bring himself to be upset when he saw the bright smile on Cas's face (how long has it been since he's seen him smile?), and the way he looked  _so right_  pressed close to Dean, their cheeks touching in one photo and Dean's arm slung around Cas's waist.

Oh, God, Dean missed him  _so_  much.

Closing his phone and letting out a deep breath, Dean rolled around in his bed, burying his face in a pillow as he tried to get some sleep.

A knock on his door interrupted him.

"I'm heading out," Sam called in, his voice steady and emotionless.

Dean sat up (a little too quickly, his alcohol-drowned brain reminded him), throwing off his sheets as he looked at his little brother, incredulously. The younger Winchester was carrying a duffel bag.

"Where?" he asked, looking at his alarm clock. It was eight-thirty.

"I'm staying the night at Andy's," Sam replied as he left Dean's room.

"Woah- wait one second," Dean called out as he got out of bed, carefully avoiding the lamp shards on the floor. He followed his brother to the living room. "Why the hell are you leaving?" Dean asked. "It's a school night."

"I don't wanna be around if you're gonna be like this," Sam commented as he reached the door.

"For fuck's sake, don't be stupid," Dean spoke, grabbing onto his brother's arm. "Just stay."

"No, Dean," Sam retorted, turning around and pulling his arm away. There were tears in Sam's eyes, and Dean instantly felt his heart break. "I don't wanna see you like this," Sam spoke, his voice breaking. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Sam, please," Dean begged, reaching out towards his little brother again. "Don't leave."

Sam's gaze travelled over Dean's face for a moment, but he looked away before he shook his head. "I'm sorry," he murmured, opening the front door. A car was parked in their driveway, the headlights bathing the brothers in yellow light. "I'll see you, tomorrow. Be careful," Sam spoke in a hushed tone before walking off to the car.

So Dean stood there in the cold, watching until the red pickup truck that Andy's dad owned drove away. Now he was alone. Now he had managed to get three people to walk out on him.

Dean screwed up. He always screwed up. His mistakes now left him alone. So completely  _alone_.

That only made Dean drink whatever he had left when he walked back into the quiet of his home.

* * *

Life without Dean was difficult and depressing.

Castiel missed him. And that feeling only grew with the months that passed. Jo and Cas had come to a silent agreement not to speak of the situation. Dean was brought up every day at lunch. Everyone missed him dearly. The group was confused and upset with his choice to leave, and they expressed their concerns relentlessly. The looks that sat on their faces made Castiel's stomach churn with guilt.

Castiel worked at the diner again, and he began talking to Meg once more. They decided to be friends, and she was more than supportive towards Cas on his worst days. Things between the two were settled and normal, and Castiel was grateful. It was more than he deserved.

The group would visit Castiel at the diner, often. And, more than he'd like to admit, Castiel would search them for Dean each and every time. When he didn't find the flash of green eyes or the material of a leather jacket, Castiel would allow himself to relax. He didn't know whether to be disappointed or happy.

During literature class, Dean tried to approach Castiel. The dark-haired teen had completely freaked out, dodging out of Dean's way and ignoring what he tried to say. He didn't mean to be cold. Castiel didn't want it to be like this. But there was no way they could just bring things back to the way they were. He didn't know how and he was just too hurt to try. What Dean and Castiel had was special. It was more than a friendship. It was a profound bond, and they both felt it strongly. So Castiel knew they couldn't "just be friends". And there was certainly no way they could return to the special bond they once shared.

Dean was looking awful. Castiel noticed, although he wished he hadn't. There were bags under Dean's eyes and his smiles he gave were polite rather than real. His eyes were dull and the brilliance of the greens in them were no longer prominent.

It hurt to see. It hurt for Castiel to know that he had unintentionally taken Dean's friends away from him. Castiel had tried to stray away from the group, as well. He had tried to allow Dean to return to them without the awkwardness of Castiel's presence. But as soon as he showed his first signs of separating, everyone had clung onto him, drawing him back in.

There were days where Castiel wanted to be the one to mend things between Dean and himself. There were days where Castiel would almost break down in the middle of class, and there were days where he would feel so completely lost and hopeless.

But he was scared. Castiel was too afraid of getting hurt, again.

And when the days came and went, fear overtook Castiel's courage, smothering it to the ground in a terrible display of its strength.

* * *

Dean watched as Castiel walked out of lit., just as he did every single day. He took in the sight of his best friend. Castiel's hair was growing longer, yet it was still styled nicely, some strands settling on his forehead while others stood up messily. He was dressed in one of his many sweaters, a jacket dangling from one arm as he quickly put it on. His blue eyes seemed troubled (as they normally were around Dean), but other than that Castiel looked healthy. That thought settled Dean's worries, although it also made him jealous.

He wished he could be as well off as Castiel. He wished he could be just as unaffected.

Last night had been hell. Dean had called Sam, checking up on him. He promised his brother he was okay and that he wouldn't be drinking, again. After a ten minute conversation of Dean apologizing, he managed to convince Sam to let Dean pick him after school. The catch was that Sam would search out for any alcohol and throw it all away. Dean had agreed. The liquor wasn't doing him well, anyways. Dean had woken up with a massive hangover, and was taking pain meds to dull the ache. Other than that, Dean was happy Sam would come home. He needed his little brother. He needed that constant reassurance that no matter how hectic his life got, and no matter how many people left, Sam would be there to stay. When Sam left, it had been a terrible blow towards Dean's weak barrier. He had ended up crying (something he'd never tell anyone), and blamed himself, worrying over how crappy of an older brother he'd been.

Things were settling, though, and Dean felt a little better with the knowledge that now he'd be picking up Sammy.

Just as Dean got up and bid his friends a farewell, Mrs. Madison called him over. Dean noticed that Castiel had been avoiding his aunt, as well. The blond felt a sudden wave of new found guilt as he walked over to his teacher's desk.

"Yes?" he answered hesitantly. Mrs. Madison stood up, waiting until the class was empty before speaking.

"I'm worried about you, Dean," she got to the point, blue eyes meeting her student's green ones. "Your grade in this class is slipping. I've looked at your transcript, and it appears as though this isn't the only class in which you are struggling," the teacher noted. Dean was barely paying attention. He was only thinking about the way her eyes looked like Cas's- the way her hair was dark and wavy just like his. It made his stomach drop and his heart ache. "I want you to work harder," the teacher continued. "I… I know things are difficult right now, but-"

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't care less about my grades," Dean murmured, interrupting her. He was so done. He was done with school and with trying and he was most certainly done caring. "All I want to work on right about now is getting Cas to  _at_ _least_  not hate me."

Mrs. Madison bit her lip disapprovingly. "Dean, you need to get that out of your mind. Whatever happened between you two is in the past. What's more important, now, is that you continue doing well in your classes."

Dean looked off to the side, pursing his lips as he tried not to burst with the anger boiling within him. That was  _not_ what mattered. She had it all wrong. How could she be worried about something so pointless? How on Earth could that matter when there were so many more pressing matters at hand? Taking a deep breath, the teen returned his attention to his teacher. "What do I do?" he asked, his voice weak.

"Well, I have study sessions you could attend for this-"

"No. What do I do to fix it?" he clarified. "How do I fix things with Cas?"

When Mrs. Madison set a worried expression on Dean, he tried to compose himself. He was never gonna stop getting that look, was he? With a sigh, Dean spoke, again. "You know him a helluva lot better than I do. How do I say sorry? How do I let him know I mean it?" 

The teacher was silent for a moment, contemplating before she spoke. "Only you can really know what to do, Dean. Let Castiel know your feelings towards him haven't changed," she instructed, ignoring when Dean blushed at her quick assumption. "Find a way to let him know that you  _want_ to be with him. Make sure he knows that it is not fake or some sort of horrid joke aimed at his expense. You need to let him know that you mean well," Mrs. Madison said with a shrug and a sigh. "Honestly, I do not know enough of the situation to give the best advice. But all Castiel really needs is reassurance. Perhaps in a way he can trust. It may be just as simple as that, but it will not be easy to give him, at this point," she explained. Dean's heart was racing as he took in her information with wide eyes. She was right.

But what could he do? What would be enough to let Cas know he's serious?

Spoken words would not help. Castiel had been told so many lies and horrid things- speaking would only raise his doubts. Besides, Dean could hardly get Castiel to listen for more than a few seconds, if not at all. 

Dean ran a hand through his hair as he looked away, trying to think.

Suddenly, an thought came to him.

"I think I know what to do."


	25. Repair

Dean set to his task right after work, that Thursday. It took him all night, and involved a lot of self doubt and over twenty crumpled up papers tossed towards the general area of the trashcan in his bedroom. But by the time morning broke, Dean was awarded for his persistence. He had finished. Nervousness (and lack of sleep, he supposed) shook his fingers as he held the letter in his hand, turning it this way and that in his grasp as he tried to summon up the courage to do what he was about to do.

Written words always meant so much to Castiel. The boy had lived with the company of books for most of his life, and he knew the power that words could provide. Dean had carefully chosen the best way to reach out to Castiel, thinking over and over as he wrote and tossed out papers. He put himself in Castiel's shoes, and worked incredibly hard to write what he knew Castiel needed to read.

He just hoped it was enough.

"Dean?" Sam's voice called out from the doorway to the bedroom. Dean's head whipped towards the source of his brother's voice. Sammy was in his pajamas, his brown hair (which was growing quite long) sticking out every which way, messy with sleep. He was staring at Dean with surprised green eyes. "Have you been up all night?" the teen asked, noticing that Dean hadn't changed out of his clothes, and that his bed had not been slept in, sheets still made (something that Dean did to procrastinate on writing his letter).

Dean looked at the alarm clock in his room, checking the time. It was already six o'clock. "Yeah," he replied, knowing it would be useless to lie to his little brother. "Yeah- hey, you want breakfast?" Dean asked, getting up from his chair and placing the letter on his desk, carefully.

Sam was quiet for a moment. "Sure," he replied, and Dean felt all his tidal wave of emotions calm at the sight of his brother's smile. For the first time in a long time, a grin found its way to Dean's face. A true, real grin.

"Alright. Lemme get changed. Eggs and bacon sound good?"

* * *

Castiel noticed the white envelope among the mail right away once he got home from school on Friday. It was creased from being folded, and it stood out like a sore thumb among the rest of the fancy, official-looking envelopes held in Castiel's hands. When Castiel had walked into his home, he separated it from his dad's mail, looking hesitantly at the front.

That's when his heart began racing. Scrawled in a blue pen was his name, the slanted writing looking eerily familiar.

He knew what this was. And everything within Castiel told him to throw it away, and forget about it. But his curiosity eventually took over as he rushed to his room, letter in hand. It didn't have any stamps, Castiel noticed as he sat on his bed. Dean had been to his house. Dean didn't want to risk anybody else seeing it.

Swallowing back his pounding heart, Castiel's shaking fingers slid under the fold of the letter, gently ripping open the seam. Once he had done that, he seemed to be unable to move, consumed with fear. What was he about to read?

His heartbeat was loud in his ears as the dark-haired teen pulled out the thick paper contents of the envelope. There was about three sheets of notebook paper folded into one another, also creased irregularly and looking as if the owner of them had almost crumbled and tossed them away.

When Castiel unfolded the paper, his suspicions had been confirmed. It had definitely been written by Dean. The messy, cursive like scrawl could belong to none other than the blond teenager.

So, mustering up his courage, Castiel read.

_Cas,_

_Please don't throw this away when you see it. I know you probably should- I know that you've got every right to. But just please don't._

_This was the only way I knew how to contact you. I wish I could say all of this to you in person, but, as we both know, that's not really possible at the moment… but it needs to be said, Cas. I need you to know this, because you_ deserve  _to know this._

_I screwed up real bad. I messed things up and I know I damn well deserve the silent treatment, so I don't blame you, or anything. I'm not mad, and I know you'll try and find ways to blame yourself for this. It was my fault, though, okay? Not yours. But this isn't about me._

_What I did to you was unforgivable. You have every right to be upset, I know. But I need you to understand that I fucking regret it. I regret hurting you, Cas. It's the only thing that I've ever truly regretted doing in my entire life._

_I miss you, man. Hell, I miss you a lot. Not one freaking day goes by where I don't wish that I had a time machine so I could just erase what I did. You didn't deserve that, not at all. It wasn't fair for you- especially since you tried so hard to just make me happy. The whole thing with Meg… Cas, I know that I encouraged you to go for her. But, honestly, I just fucking suck at this kind of thing. I didn't want you to go for her, Cas. I mean, I guess that's obvious, now. But I just wanted you for myself. I wanted to be with you. But I didn't think you felt the same. I got scared, and I've never been so scared, before. I've never felt unsure. But you got me feeling all that stuff and I didn't know how to handle it. That's why I tried to distract myself with Pamela._

_About Pam, though… Cas, we broke up. Like, a while before Charlie's party. I'm not really gonna go into the details of that, but it did have to do with you. It had to do with me wanting you. And at the party I wanted to tell you how I felt- how I still feel- but I chickened out. Then I planned to tell you, again. I had convinced Sammy to go stay at Andy's house, and I was gonna have you come over for a movie and that's when I was going to tell you. I thought you deserved the privacy to say yes or no. That was when Meg happened._

_Cas, I overreacted. I was shocked, even though I probably shouldn't have been. It was bad timing, I guess. I waited too long, and I shoulda just sucked it up and let you be happy. I shouldn't have yelled at you like I did. I was just ready to tell you. I was ready to grow some fucking balls and tell you that I wanted us to be together. And I was just, I guess I was guilty for waiting so long. And when we kissed, I was confused. It doesn't justify what I did. Nothing ever can. But I wasn't_ thinking _._

_I guess all I can really say is I'm sorry._

_That map I gave you… I don't know if you still have it, but it doesn't matter because I've memorized it. Cas, I still wanna do all that. I know it's fucking more than I deserve, but you're the only person I've ever told about that. You're the only one I ever_ could _tell._

_All those places I marked- I know this will sound cheesy as hell, but you have no idea how many times I've laid awake at night picturing us going to those cities. Hell, I had already decided what music we'd listen to on the road, and I'd let you look through the cassette tapes even though I never even let Sam do that and we'd eat a shit ton of burgers whenever you wanted them because I know they're your favorite, and we'd just fucking drive forever without worrying about any of the crap here at Lawrence. I want to do that. It's the only thing I've ever really wanted to do. And I could never picture doing it with anybody else. I don't think I'd be able to stand being around anyone for that long. But I wouldn't mind with you. It would be fun with you._

_I don't need you to forgive me, Cas. I don't deserve that, and you don't have to give it- or deal with me, for that matter. You don't even have to talk to me. I don't want anything out of this- that's not why I'm writing this dumb letter at four fucking a.m. That's not why I'm doing this. If we never end up being friends, again, then I know that's my fault, and my fault alone. What I'm writing this for is so that you know that I care about you. I will always care about you. I want you to understand how amazing you really are, and that you shouldn't let assholes like me ruin that. I want you to know that you can do so much. You can_  be _so much._ _People care about you, Cas. They do, even if you might not realize it. People love you. And with everything we've been through… you're the best friend I've ever had. No matter how this might end up. You're my best friend._

 _What we had was real, Cas. I don't know what the hell it was, but I meant it all. I cared about you, and I still do. None of what went on between us is fake just because of some stupid mistake I made. It doesn't affect all we've done and shared. Because that_ was  _real. Remember when we sat outside at school and you told me about your mom? Remember how I said I'd always be there, and that you can count on me? Well, I meant it. I meant every bit of it._

_Anyways… well, I guess this is goodbye, or whatever. I don't know, I just needed some kind of closure, and you deserved some, too. I'm gonna leave you alone, now… I just wanted you to know that I still care and always will care, okay? You deserved better, though, and I know that so I'm just gonna stop bothering you at class (sorry about that)._

_Well… I don't really know what else to say. I really hope you read this._

_Bye, Cas._

_-Dean_

It took a while before Castiel realized his jaw had been hanging open. When he closed it, the letter in his hand blurred as tears obstructed his vision. Castiel wiped at his eyes, then read the letter two more times. He ran his fingers over the writing- over the paper that Dean had held and probably stared intensely at as he poured his heart out with nothing to show but blue pen and crossed out words on crumpled paper.

Dean…

Swallowing back his tears, Castiel slowly folded the letter, holding onto the papers as he ran through what he just read. Dean was sorry. He truly was, and there was no way that Castiel could deny that, now.

Castiel looked up at the map Dean had given him. It was hanging up on the wall next to his bed (he could never bring himself to take it down). Dean's writing was all about the giant paper, labelling cities and circling spots with red pen. This had been Dean's most vulnerable secret. He still wanted to share it with Castiel, even after everything that had happened.

Castiel's head was spinning and he couldn't even believe what he had read. He couldn't believe this was real. So he unfolded the paper and read it one more time before folding it back up neatly and placing it over his heart as he stared at the map, a weak smile lifting the corners of his lips.

What the hell was he still doing here?

Adrenaline rushing through his veins, Castiel jumped off his bed and sprinted out the door.

* * *

Dean was pouring some spaghetti for Sam when the doorbell rang. His eyebrows furrowed as he finished pouring, and he put Sam's bowl down in front of him. "You expecting anyone?" he asked, glancing at the door. It was nearly nighttime, and the Winchesters were home alone. Dean had taken a sick day off from work, too tired from his lack of sleep. He wanted to make amends with Sam, too. So, as soon as they got home, Dean had set to making him dinner as a start.

Sam shook his head, brown hair flopping as he did so. His eyes were wide. "No," he whispered in response.

Licking his lips, Dean tried to calm his heart. "Stay here," he ordered before walking to the front door, brandishing a cooking knife and ready to pounce if need be.

What he saw at the other side of the cherry red door was what he least expected.

Castiel was standing there with his cheeks, nose, and ears flushed red from cold. His blue eyes were wild and his hair was a mess, clothes askew. Puffs of white left his mouth as he panted. He had been running. He wasn't even wearing a jacket, so Dean came to the conclusion that the teen had been in a rush.

"Cas," Dean gasped out, not sure what else to say. His eyes were probably bugging out with shock, and he could barely move, his hand frozen on the door with the other one grasping the cooking knife.

Castiel glanced down at the kitchen utensil. "I know we have not been on the best of terms, but I do not believe a knife is necessary," he panted out, eyes connecting with Dean's.

Dean blushed, tossing the knife onto a table near the door. "I, uh-"

"We need to talk," Castiel spoke, and his voice was monotonous, steady and emotionless.

Dean wanted to invite Castiel in, but he felt that would be a little awkward. He heard Sam's voice behind him. "Is that Cas?" the younger Winchester asked.

"Sam, stay inside," Dean told him, turning around to face his brother. "I'll be right back," he spoke before stepping outside with Castiel, closing the door behind him.

The two teens just stared at each other for a while, the sunset and street lamps providing them light. It was silent for an eerie amount of time. Then Dean spoke.

"So… I guess you got the-uh, the letter," he murmured, scratching at the back of his neck with embarrassment. He had dropped off the letter after school before picking Sammy up from Science Club. Dean may or may not have spent five straight minutes freaking out by Castiel's mailbox, taking out the letter then putting it back in. The fact that Castiel would be home soon was what eventually got Dean to leave the letter and haul ass out of there.

Castiel nodded. "I did," he spoke stiffly.

"Oh," Dean replied, looking at the ground. He wanted to disappear.

"It was stupid," Castiel retorted, catching Dean by surprise as the blond met his eyes.

He suddenly felt angry. The goddamned letter that he had spent all night writing was stupid? Dean had poured his friggin' heart out into that thing! He had gone through multiple freak outs and had thrown away a shit ton of paper trying to get the words down the best he could. And all Castiel could say was that it was stupid?

Dean scowled. "Well, sorry it didn't suit your fancy, Cas," Dean replied, blushing at Castiel's intense gaze. "But it's kinda the best I've got, and I did mean everything I wrote," Dean snapped, crossing his arms, now. "You woulda known that a whole lot sooner if you'd freaking let me tell you in person."

Castiel huffed out a breath, looking down at the floor. He was silent for a few moments. When he looked back at Dean, his eyes had gone from emotionless to pleading. "I'm sorry about what I did. I know I went out of bounds, and… it was unreasonable, and inappropriate," Castiel told him. It took Dean a moment to realize he was talking about the kiss. "I just… I don't know what came over me, but I can assure you it won't happen, again. You don't have to pretend to feel the same way just so we can make amends," he rambled as he searched Dean's eyes, keeping a space between them that made Dean's heart grow cold and his body ache for Castiel's.

Suddenly, Dean grew silent. He couldn't find his voice. His arms fell to his sides, and he gazed at Castiel. This was it. He needed to tell him. There was no turning back after this- there was no second chance.  _If you don't act now, you'll never have him_.

"I mean… i-if you want… we could just try and go back to how things were," Castiel murmured, looking away from Dean, now. "We could just pretend that this never happened."

Dean swallowed, not sure what to say. If he just agreed with Castiel, now, everything could go back to normal. Dean could be the straight ladie's man and get together with girls and then later on down the road he could start a family and be the man his father expected him to be. He could be normal- no more worrying about what people would think, and he would just fit in. He wouldn't have to grow attached to Castiel, and he wouldn't have to feel broken when he ends up moving and leaving him behind. No more feeling like crap and drinking away his problems. No more pining after something he couldn't have. No more constantly being afraid. He wouldn't have to go through any more pain if he lost Castiel, again. But that was not what he wanted. And when Dean tried to say that, he found that his throat tightened in protest, not letting him.

"Dean…  _please_ , say something," Castiel begged, seeming to back away even more, now, as his face grew red with embarrassment. When Dean didn't respond, his lip quivered before he bit on it and looked down at the floor, again. He didn't lift his head up when he spoke. "You're the first and best friend I've ever had, Dean," Castiel murmured as he glanced up at the blond teen and then looked to the side. "I-I'm sorry, I messed this up, it's my fault. This is dumb, I'm wasting your time- I'll just go, now," Castiel spoke shakily as he took another step back and turned around, leaving Dean speechless at the front door.

Now. Go get him,  _now._ Don't fuck this up, Dean, just  _don't fuck this up._

Castiel was down the driveway. He walked fast down the sidewalk, not looking back as he disappeared from Dean's sight, swallowed in twilight.

No. This was not what Dean wanted. He needed Cas, he-

 _Damnit_ , he fucking loved him.

Feeling adrenaline kick-start within him, Dean sprinted down his driveway, not bothering to lock the door behind him (something his father would kick his ass for) as he ran after Cas (something else his dad would definitely kick his ass for).

There was just no fucking winning, in this situation. At this point, Dean could give less of a crap. This was about his own happiness. This was about what he truly wanted.

And he wanted Cas.

"Cas!" Dean called out when he caught sight of the teen's small figure. Castiel froze in his spot, turning around to look at Dean- an almost scared look on his face as Dean grew closer.

"Dean, I-" he began when Dean had reached him.

Dean lifted up a hand, though, silencing the teen. "Stop- for one fucking moment just shut up, okay?" Dean commanded as he panted, regaining his breath that was shallow in his throat, his heart racing more from anxiety rather than running. "Fuck, Cas- I-"

But Dean didn't know how to get the words out. He couldn't say it.

He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath, then looked at his friend pleadingly. Castiel looked hopelessly confused, his eyes watery with tears he was holding back, and his face scrunched up with questions. It seemed as if he were begging Dean not to hurt him, again.

Not sure what else to do, Dean reached forward and pulled Cas into a hug, holding the shocked teen tight. Castiel seemed as though he was not sure what to do as he let Dean hug him, frozen in his arms.

"Damnit, Cas," Dean mumbled as he buried his face into his friend's neck, hands flailing around Castiel's back as he looked for a place to grip onto. Castiel was in his arms. He was here and real and Dean was never going to let him go, again. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry," he apologized as Castiel seemed to finally move in his grasp, letting out a sigh as he hugged Dean back tentatively.

And Castiel's arms around him was what gave him the push to do what he did next.

Dean pulled away, slightly, looking into those fucking blue eyes that somehow made their way into all of Dean's dreams and thoughts. He looked at Castiel, and it all just hit him.

That's when he leaned in and kissed him.

It was a chaste kiss, and Castiel was more than surprised, at first, mouth motionless against Dean's until he seemed to realize that  _this was actually happening_ and relaxed his lips, allowing them to settle into Dean's, melting into the kiss- melting into  _him_ in a spectacular feeling of warmth and life.

Dean parted their lips and opened his eyes to see Castiel's own half lidded blue orbs gazing at Dean's mouth with an almost dreamy haze. Their lips were a hair's length apart, their warm breaths mingling and lips slightly brushing, sending thousands of tingling sensations travelling through Dean's lips and around his face, warming his numb cheeks. Butterflies kicked in Dean's stomach as he smiled and kissed Castiel again, pulling him closer because, damnit, he's wanted this for so long, and he was so dumb to have waited all this time for this perfect moment.

Castiel's hands gripped onto Dean's jacket as he seemed to sigh into the innocent kiss, parting their lips again. Castiel was the one who smiled, this time, the tears that had been permanent in his eyes for so long falling, now, as if to shed away the sadness and replace it with a shine of peace and comfort, the pure joy he felt making itself obvious in the blue pigments of the deep sea held within his gaze.

Dean kissed away the tears, the salty taste lingering on his tongue as he kissed Castiel's forehead. "Cas," he murmured as he kissed Castiel's cheek, desperately trying to tell him what he wanted to say through frenzied kisses. "Fuck, Cas, I-" he tried before he gave Castiel's cheek another kiss, nuzzling his nose there as he struggled to calm his erratic breathing.

Castiel understood, though. He knew what Dean was trying to say. He knew from the way Dean held him- from the shake in his voice and the tenderness in the greens of his eyes.

"I know. It's alright, I know," he murmured as he pulled Dean close, letting him let out a shaky laugh as he buried his face in Castiel's neck again, breathing in the familiar scent, letting his lips brush against the pulse of Castiel's neck. Dean pushed back the tears that burned behind his eyes, overwhelmed with Castiel's presence.

"Don't go," Dean murmured pathetically into Castiel's skin, clinging onto Castiel desperately as he tightened his hold on his sweater. "Please. Just- just don't go."

Castiel nodded, his hand rubbing circles into Dean's back. "I'm not leaving," he reassured. Dean laughed shakily.

"I'm sorry, Cas- shit, I'm sorry," he kept murmuring over and over as Castiel held him, wrapping his arms around Dean comfortingly.

"It's okay, Dean," Castiel whispered, smiling into Dean's neck. "It's okay."


	26. Come Back

Castiel and Dean spent a few minutes holding one another as they tried to compose themselves, arms wound tight and hands gripping onto clothes. It was chilly outside, but Castiel felt incredibly warm in Dean's arms. He felt more alive than he had been in months.

"Stay the night," Dean eventually spoke, breaking the silence. He pulled away slightly from Castiel, although he kept his grip on his sweater, their bodies still close. Dean's eyes were hesitant yet hopeful as he raised a hand to place it on Castiel's cheek, cradling it softly as he looked him up and down, almost as if he couldn't believe he was real.

Castiel gave a light laugh, resting his forehead against Dean's as he looked down. Their noses brushed, and Castiel could feel Dean's breath ghost against his cheek. Dean's hand moved to the back of Cas's head, burying into the hair there. His fingers were warm and gentle, and Castiel's body heated up happily at the touch. "I don't have any of my things," Castiel protested weakly, although he knew that he'd end up saying yes.

Dean kissed his nose hesitantly- just a slight flutter of lips that made Castiel's heart skip. "I've got things," he responded simply.

A smile found its way to Castiel's face. "I can't just keep borrowing your clothes, Dean," Cas protested, moving his hands to warm themselves inside of Dean's jacket, right on his back and under the warm material. He could feel Dean's muscles underneath the thin cloth of his henley, hard underneath Castiel's palms. Dean pressed closer.

"I don't mind," he replied, giving Castiel a quick kiss. The light press of Dean's lips against Castiel's left him breathless and tingling. This was real. Castiel finally had Dean. "Please, Cas?" Dean tried, pulling away to look into Castiel's eyes, green meeting blue.

Castiel gave in, nodding as he smiled. "Alright."

Dean's smile was breathtaking, his eyes practically shining as he took Castiel's hand, leading him to his house. Dean's grip was strong yet warm, his thumb rubbing circles on the top of Castiel's hand- an action Castiel was pretty sure Dean didn't even realize he was doing. When they got to the front door, Dean let go of Castiel's hand gently, although his fingers brushed against Castiel's wrist to catch his attention. Dean looked into his eyes apologetically.

"Sam doesn't really know about everything, yet," he explained, shyly. "Don't think now's the right time…."

Castiel nodded in understanding. "We don't have to tell him, yet," Castiel reassured, earning a grateful smile from the blond.

They both walked inside, and Castiel was instantly met with Sam's voice.

"Cas!" he exclaimed from his spot at the dining table. He got up, but didn't go towards him. The younger Winchester seemed hesitant.

Castiel offered a smile. "Hello, Sam," he greeted, earning a bright smile from boy as he finally stepped over to them.

After observing both Dean and Cas, Sam gave Castiel a hug. The dark-haired teen was shocked, at first, but he hugged Sam back. When the boy pulled away, he gave Castiel a smile. "I'm glad you're back," he said honestly, taking a step back now. He gave the two friends a nod and a bigger smile, now. "I'm gonna go eat in my room, Dean," Sam informed him, picking up his bowl of spaghetti before walking off, looking back at the two with a strange look on his face.

Dean chuckled when his brother's door closed. "I have a feeling he already knows," he murmured, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket as he avoided Castiel's eyes.

Cas took Dean's hand, removing it from his jacket. Dean looked up, meeting his eyes now. Castiel gave him a smile, urging Dean close, gently. "Probably," Castiel replied with a shrug, looking down at their interlocked hands as Dean twined their fingers together. Their hands looked nice together, with Dean's sturdy fingers and Castiel's long, thin ones. It was a suitable contrast, and Castiel ran a thumb along Dean's, reaching to the tip of it then tracing back down. 

It was silent for a moment. "We still need to talk," Dean whispered, staring at their hands.

Castiel nodded in response. "Yes. We do," he agreed.

"Okay… you want to go to my room?" Dean suggested.

Castiel nodded again, following the blond to his bedroom. It felt strange to be back in the Winchesters' home. After months of being away and living off memories, it seemed almost surreal to actually be there. Castiel tried not to remember what his last visit here had been like… and the one before that.

Things were different, now. Cas and Dean would fix this.

They both sat down on Dean's bed, facing one another with crossed legs. Dean's room was pretty much the same- messy yet comforting. Dean hadn't let go of Castiel's hand, and now he was holding both of them, playing with Castiel's fingers as he gazed at them, seeming deep in thought. Castiel looked down at their locked hands, trying to contain his blush at the feel of Dean's fingers on his own. This was all so new. Had Castiel ever held hands with somebody like this, before? How many times had he imagined doing this with Dean? It felt proper, having their fingers touch. It just felt so warm. And Dean's hands were so  _nice_ , Castiel observed.

"There's so much I need to tell you," Dean murmured, not looking up. Castiel didn't speak, using his silence to urge Dean on. "But the most important thing, I guess… is that I'm sorry," Dean told him, looking up, now. "I'm so sorry, Cas," Dean spoke, gazing deeply into Castiel's eyes.

Castiel only looked back, searching Dean's eyes for confirmation in his statement. He still felt the wariness of caution tug in his chest. Dean swallowed before talking, again.

"The thing is…" Dean laughed, looking embarrassed now. "You know I only went out with Lisa and Pamela because I liked you so much?" Dean asked, looking back down at their hands. "That sounds stupid now that I've said it out loud. I've never… y'know, felt this way about a guy. It was strange to me… I didn't know how to interpret it. At first I just kinda figured it was because you're so nice, y'know? Like, everyone that knows you likes you. I figured that I was more… infatuated rather than getting a crush on you. So I tried to distract myself… I didn't wanna tell you the truth and scare you off. I didn't want to lose you and I guess I was just freaking out too much to realize that my feelings were mutual," Dean explained with a shrug.

It was silent for a bit. Then Dean continued. "When I found you and Meg… well, I know it may seem insane, but that was the night I was gonna tell you. I, uh, encouraged Sammy to go out. I wanted us to be alone so that if I was right and you weren't interested you could reject me without worrying about other people being around to think badly or whatever…. Hell, I had been scared all day. I'd been wound up so tight and when I saw you kissing Meg, I guess I just snapped," Dean revealed, seeming small. He traced along Castiel's hands continuously as he spoke, nervously fiddling with his fingers and palms."I never should've taken it out on you, Cas," Dean spoke honestly, looking up to meet Castiel's eyes. Dean's eyes were glassy and truthful, not one hint of betrayal within them. Castiel just stared back at him until Dean looked back down. "I… uh, when you kissed me… I thought you only did it because you felt bad… because I was such an emotional wreck and because you're so nice and you didn't want me to feel hurt or whatever… I thought you were taking pity on me," Dean recalled, blushing. "I guess I was just scared that I could be so close to having you, just to have it all end up being fake."

Silence once again consumed them. But, this time, Dean didn't talk, again. Castiel took back his right hand, startling Dean who looked up just in time for Castiel to reach out and cup his cheek. Castiel observed Dean's face, frozen still in his movements before he realized he was allowed to do this, now. So, relaxing, Castiel ran his thumb smoothly over Dean's cheekbone, staring at Dean's wary features. His skin was no longer sunkissed, and instead held a pale complexion. There were bags under Dean's eyes, but the green orbs still shone brightly with Castiel's touch and presence. Castiel would bring back the Dean he once knew. He'd heal him and make up for any hardships he had brought forth.

Leaning forward, Castiel kissed Dean softly, deciding to start, now. Dean kissed him back, pressing into Castiel's lips just slightly, letting go of Castiel's hand and moving both of his to settle on Cas's thighs. When they parted their lips, Dean kissed at Cas's chin.

"I missed you," he breathed out, and Castiel felt a shiver travel underneath his skin.

Castiel moved his hands to Dean's arms, holding onto them as he kissed Dean, again, his skin tingling as their chins and noses and lips touched. This felt right. It felt like the world was in balance. "I missed you, too," he spoke truthfully, resting his forehead against Dean's.

It was silent, again. Castiel ran fingers up and down Dean's arms, tracing lightly over the thick material of his cargo jacket. Dean seemed to watch Castiel's ministrations, staying still in his hands. "Now what?" Castiel asked after some time, pulling away slightly to look into Dean's eyes.

Dean removed his hands from Castiel's legs, taking his hands gently off his arms as he held them. "Now… I want you to be mine," he determined, kissing Castiel once before pulling away. "If you want to," he added, looking carefully at Castiel.

Castiel smiled. "As in your boyfriend?" he teased, making Dean roll his eyes.

"I guess you could call it that, yeah," he agreed, meeting Castiel's gaze. "So, what do you think?"

Castiel's smile settled before he nodded. "I'd like that," he replied. "I'd like that a lot."

Dean grinned. "Good," he spoke before giving Castiel another kiss, prolonging it this time. Castiel hummed into Dean's mouth, reaching back for another one when Dean pulled away. Dean seemed shocked, but he happily obliged, putting a hand on the back of Castiel's head as he fisted his hair, pulling Castiel nearer.

When they separated, Dean's gaze went from Castiel's lips up, settling on Castiel's eyes. For a moment, Castiel could only gaze back, drawn into a complete trance. A chuckle escaped from Dean's lips, and Castiel let out the breath he realized he'd been holding.

"I could get used to this," Dean murmured, their noses brushing. Castiel smiled.

Suddenly, he remembered something.

Castiel pulled away, his eyes wide. "I have work," he spoke frantically, looking over at Dean's alarm clock. "In ten minutes, too," he added, jumping off the bed.

"Woah, wait a second," Dean spoke, stopping Castiel from his movement as he grabbed his hand. "It's okay, I'll take you. Let's get you to your house so you can get changed," Dean calmed him, giving him a smile.

Castiel searched Dean's eyes for a moment. The diner wasn't too far from Dean's house. And Jo might have an extra black shirt and apron he could borrow. He didn't need to bother Dean unnecessarily… but, then again, Dean had offered and Castiel did want to spend some more time with him. Castiel smiled hesitantly before he nodded. "Alright," he agreed. Dean's shoulders seemed to drop with relief as he smiled back.

So they walked out Dean's room, Dean calling to Sam to tell him where they were headed before they made their way out the front door. They climbed into the Impala, and Castiel looked around the interior of the car, feeling a calming warmth spread about him. This was where he belonged, right by Dean in the Impala. And to think he had gone so long without this… Castiel didn't know how he made it. Dean was the most important thing to Castiel, and he realized that, now. There was no way he'd let this go, again- pride and hurt be damned.

They drove silently for a few minutes, and then stopped at a red light. Castiel could feel Dean gazing at him, and he looked over at the blond teen. Dean seemed to be observing Castiel, looking at him almost as if he couldn't believe it was actually Cas sitting right there in the Impala.

When Dean's eyes roamed further up, Castiel caught Dean's gaze and tilted his head in a confused manner. "What is it?" he asked, intrigued with Dean's expression.

Dean smiled in response. "Just… glad you're here," he murmured, driving when the light suddenly went green.

Dean glanced back at Castiel to see him smiling back, his hand in between them, palm up in invitation. Feeling butterflies flutter in him, Castiel resisted the urge to smile wider when Dean took his hand, using his left one to drive, now. Castiel squeezed Dean's hand slightly in response, making Dean smile as he drove.

When they got to Cas's house, the dark-haired teen instructed Dean to wait in the car before sprinting into the brick home, stripping off his clothes as he ran up the stairs and changing right when he reached his room. While he was at it, Castiel grabbed some pajamas, his contacts case, and his toothbrush, placing those items on his desk while he quickly covered up his scars. After that, he tucked his things under his arm and made his way out the room. He was in the process of tying his apron as he ran out the front door, closing and locking it behind him.

Dean raised an impressed eyebrow when Castiel slid into the Impala, out of breath. "You only took four minutes," he noted, pulling out of the driveway and speeding to the diner.

Castiel nodded, laughing slightly as he calmed his breathing and placed his sleepover items on the floor of the passenger seat. Dean smiled at that. "Looks like you're prepared," he observed.

Castiel suddenly froze. Did Dean still want him to spend the night? "I'm still staying over, right?" he asked, making sure and sort of feeling embarrassed, now.

Dean took Castiel's hand. "Yes," he replied, giving it a squeeze before removing his hand and putting it on the wheel. Castiel resisted the urge to request for Dean to give it back as he sat on his hands to prevent them from itching towards him.

They pulled into the parking lot outside the diner only ten minutes late. Dean turned to give Castiel a smile. "I'll pick you up after?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Castiel smiled, nodding. "Okay," he confirmed.

"Cool," Dean replied, leaning in to give Castiel a quick kiss that Castiel may or may not have pressed closer into so he could prolong it. "I'll see you later," Dean promised as he pulled away. "You still off at eleven?" 

"Yes," Castiel responded. "See you, Dean," he spoke before climbing out of the Impala and closing the door behind him, slightly wobbly on his feet. The events that had taken place suddenly rushed at Castiel, and he was overwhelmed. Things were finally looking up. Things were going to be better. Castiel turned around to wave at Dean before walking into the diner, a giant smile plastered onto his face.

"There you are!" Jo exclaimed. "You're-"

But before she could finish, Castiel pulled her in for a big hug, his smile still stretching his lips. "I'm late, I know," he finished for her as he pulled away. "Sorry, Jo," he apologized, trying to calm the excitement that ran through his veins.

Jo raised her eyebrow. "What's up with you?" she asked, although a smirk played at the corner of her lips.

Castiel shrugged, giving her a smile. "I guess I'm just happy," he replied before heading off to check himself in, ignoring Jo's incredulous stare boring into the back of his head.

* * *

When work was beginning to end, Castiel found himself on edge, checking the door every few minutes. He'd contain his smile as he worked, and a few customers gave him confused looks in response to his cheery attitude, but they smiled back, nonetheless. By the time Castiel was wiping down tables a little too enthusiastically five minutes before closing, Jo came over to him.

"Okay, spill," she demanded, grabbing the rag from his hands, a smile on her face. "What's got you so up and about?" she asked, waving the rag around in time with her hand gestures.

Castiel looked around the diner. The last of the customers had just left and both Ash and Meg were off doing dishes, so he suspected it was safe to tell her.

He locked eyes with Jo, smiling freely, now. "It's Dean," he admitted, feeling his heart flutter with delight at the way the name rolled off his tongue when only a day ago it would have weighed down in his chest with dread.

Jo's eyes went wide. "Woah, wait, back up _._ What did he do? What happened?" she asked, although it seemed she had a good feeling.

"He apologized," Castiel explained, fingers twiddling with his apron as he looked down, smiling. "He means it, too," Castiel added. "I was hesitant at first, but… he made it very clear."

A smile found its way back to Jo's face. "Made it clear, huh?" she teased. When Castiel blushed, both her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. "Wait one second, did you two-"

" _No_ \- no, we just kissed," Castiel clarified, embarrassed.

Jo smiled at that, and pulled Castiel in for a sudden hug. "I'm glad things have worked out," she replied, her eyes brighter than he's seen them in a while when she pulled away. She held onto Castiel's arms as she looked at him. "Hell, it took long enough, but I'm glad everything is better."

Castiel smiled, about to respond when he noticed the Impala pull up in front of the diner.

"He's here," Castiel informed, his heart skipping a beat. "I have to go," he spoke fast, heading to the back where he put away the cleaning supplies he'd been using. Jo followed him there, and Castiel took the rag from her and put it away.

"Is he not gonna come in?" she asked, looking confused as Castiel turned to face her.

Castiel blushed. "Uhm, I may not have spoken to him about returning to the group, yet," the blue-eyed teen informed, looking anywhere but at Jo's shocked expression.

"Why not?" she persisted, hands on her hips. Castiel felt his phone buzz with a message in his pocket.

"We only just started talking, Jo," Castiel defended, resisting the urge to pull out his phone. "I was going to bring it up, but I was late to work. I'll talk to him, I swear," Castiel reassured, looking into Jo's brown eyes.

Jo sighed, arms falling to her sides. "Alright. Well, hey, I'm happy for you," she told him, placing a hand on Castiel's arm and giving a squeeze. Castiel smiled, thankfully.

"I'll talk to him, tonight," Castiel repeated after pulling away, giving Jo a reassuring look.

Jo raised an eyebrow. "You spending the night?" she asked, smiling when Castiel rolled his eyes.

"Goodnight, Jo," he called out to her as he walked away, ignoring her laughs.

"Tell him we miss him!" Jo replied once Castiel had made it to the door. He gave her a smile before walking out.

Dean was leaning against the front of the car, and he gave Castiel a once over when he spotted him.

"Hey," Dean greeted, giving a nervous smile. "I-uh, I was gonna walk in, but… I didn't know if now's the right time," he explained, unlocking the Impala and gesturing for Castiel to climb in.

"Do not worry about it," Castiel replied as he sat in the passenger seat, closing the door behind him. "Jo says hi," Castiel informed him, observing the way Dean suddenly frowned as he started up the car.

"I've been pretty shitty to her... and everyone else, for that matter," Dean murmured as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed home. "Don't know why they'd still bother with me."

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at Dean's profile. "You're their friend, Dean. No matter what happens, they still care about you."

Dean sighed. "I don't really wanna talk about this right now," he admitted, hands tightening on the wheel.

So Castiel fell silent, looking at Dean for a moment longer before he averted his stare out the window. Castiel watched the streetlights pass as he thought to himself. Even though Cas and Dean may have made up, things still weren't back to normal. Would Dean even come back to the group?

When they pulled into the driveway of Dean's home, Castiel checked the passenger seat floor for his things, confused when he couldn't find them.

"I brought them in," Dean informed him, startling the teen.

Castiel looked up, and Dean suddenly seemed shy. "Uh, I didn't wanna leave it in the car. It's in my room," he explained, and Castiel smiled, leaning forward to kiss Dean on the cheek.

"Thank-" Castiel began, but was interrupted by Dean's lips pressing against his own. Castiel let out a surprised noise, but kissed Dean back, smiling into the kiss.

When Dean pulled away, he opened his eyes and met Castiel's. He seemed entranced. "Sorry, I-"

But Castiel just continued their kiss, silencing the blond teen. A warm hand settled on Castiel's side, another one sitting on his shoulder. This kiss was more intense than their previous ones, the air now filled with electric need rather than calming warmth. They fought to touch one another, hands settling on arms and legs and torsos. Castiel had missed Dean terribly, and he could tell that the other felt the same way. It was as if they were making up for lost time- making up for all the touches and kisses that hadn't happened.

Castiel's hands went to Dean's sides, grasping onto his jacket and pulling Dean close, making Dean let out a growl that Castiel muffled as he pressed nearer. Castiel licked at Dean's bottom lip, driving a moan out of the teen who returned the favor, licking into Castiel's mouth in an amazing mess of heat and rushed need. Castiel easily opened up, repeating Dean's actions and learning quickly. It seemed he was doing the right thing, because Dean was letting out satisfactory noises in response to the licks and presses that Castiel granted him. Castiel's breath was shallow and his mind was buzzing, completely drunk off of Dean's kisses. His whole body felt like it was thrumming- warmth pooled in his gut, and butterflies accompanied it. It was like nothing Castiel had ever felt, before.

Eventually Dean separated them, out of breath as he gazed at Castiel's lips. Their faces were only an inch apart, and every couple of seconds one of them would press closer, lessening the space between them as if to continue their kissing. Dean's face was flushed and his lips were red and swollen, and it made something stir within Castiel. He figured that Dean was probably looking at the same sight, and he wondered what the blond's thoughts were on that.

Castiel's hands slid from Dean's sides up, trailing up to his shoulders and then to his back- yearning to explore every inch of Dean. He let his fingers slide under Dean's jacket, trailing them up and down on his sides. Castiel could feel Dean shiver beneath his roaming fingers, and that brought a happy feeling within him. Castiel wanted to continue- he wanted to go further. But he wasn't quite sure how.

Dean leaned forward and gave Castiel one more kiss, making warmth pool in Castiel's belly as the intensity calmed. His lips were slick with spit, soft against Castiel's. Their lips molded perfectly, sliding right into place before Dean pulled away. "We should head inside," Dean whispered. "Sam'll probably be wondering why we've been out here so long."

Castiel nodded, moving away, reluctantly. It was cold outside, and upon further observation Castiel noticed the lights to the condo were on in the living room and kitchen windows. All the lights upstairs were off, from what he could see. Sammy must be downstairs. Castiel wasn't sure how long he and Dean had been parked in the driveway, but it was bound to bring up some suspicions.

So the two teens composed themselves before climbing out of the Impala, and making their way to the front door. When they got inside, they saw Sammy seated in the living room. The television was on, but the teen seemed completely uninterested in the program flashing on the screens. Instead, he turned to give his attention to Castiel and Dean.

"Hey," Sammy greeted, seeming sleepy. "You staying the night, Cas?" the younger Winchester asked.

Castiel nodded. "Yes, I am," he replied. Sammy seemed happy about that, his smile bright.

"We're gonna head off to bed," Dean informed his younger brother. "Goodnight, Sammy. Don't stay up too late."

"Night," Sam replied before returning his attention to the television.

When they reached Dean's bedroom, Castiel stood in the entrance.

"I think I should sleep in the guest bed," Castiel spoke, looking over his shoulder in case Sammy decided to show up. "Best not to raise questions just yet," he clarified. Dean looked upset, but he nodded.

"Yeah, you're right… okay," Dean agreed, retrieving Castiel's things and giving it to him with a nod. "You got everything you need?" Dean asked as Castiel took his belongings from Dean's hands.

"I believe so," he responded, looking at the items in his hands. "Thank you."

Dean smiled and checked the halls before leaning forward and giving Castiel a quick peck. "Goodnight, Cas."

Castiel smiled, trying to tame the blush that spread to his cheeks. "Goodnight," he replied.

So Castiel went into the guest room and changed into his pajamas, folding his clothes and putting them away before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he had done all he needed in the bathroom, he headed towards the guest room with a sense of regret, staring at the door to Dean's room, longingly. Castiel realized with a pang of annoyance that he wished he hadn't said anything. Sleeping next to Dean sounded better than amazing, at the moment.

Sighing, Castiel went into the spare bedroom, closing the door behind him and turning off the lights before climbing into his bed. He found that he could not fall asleep, though. Thoughts of everything that had occurred today flitted through Castiel's mind, keeping the weary boy preoccupied with smiles and sighs of relief. Castiel didn't know how long he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to let sleep calm his thoughts. It must have been an hour, at least, because eventually he heard the dull noise of the television die down as Sam's footsteps retreated towards his bedroom. A while after that, the door to Castiel's room opened.

"Cas? You awake?" Dean's voice called softly.

Castiel sat up right away, taking in Dean's form. He was lightly bathed in the hallway light, and Castiel could just barely see the hesitance on Dean's face. "Yes," Castiel replied automatically, tilting his head to the side. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

Dean looked at the floor, seeming shy. "Uh, I couldn't sleep. I was, uhm… wondering if…" Dean trailed off before glancing back up.

Castiel suddenly smiled wide, reaching out an arm in invitation. "Come here," he ordered, drawing a smile from the blond.

Dean nodded before coming in and closing the door quietly behind him. The room was suddenly bathed in darkness, and Castiel leaned forward as he stretched his arm out, searching for Dean.

A thud sounded, and Dean cursed in a low hiss.

"What happened?" Castiel whispered, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes squinted in his attempt to see through the dark. It made little progress.

"Stubbed my toe," Dean murmured. "Can't see a damn thing."

Castiel chuckled, trying to contain his laughter so as not to wake up Sammy. "You're ever the graceful being," Castiel commented.

"Oh, shut up, Cas," Dean grumbled, the sounds of his stumbling making their way to Castiel's ears. Castiel fought back a grin.

"Would you like me to turn on the lamp?" he offered.

"Nah-no, I think I got it. Yeah, I feel the bed," Dean reported before the brush of fingers suddenly made contact with Castiel's hand. He gripped Dean tight, easing him onto the bed and scooting over to the side to make room for him as he laid the blond down next to him.

"Better?" Castiel asked with a smile, lacing his fingers with Dean's as he moved closer to him.

He could hear the smile in Dean's voice as he spoke. "Much better," he agreed before placing a kiss on Castiel's nose. "I'm not sure what I just kissed but I was aiming for your lips," Dean murmured before laughing. Castiel joined his laughter as Dean's hand trailed to the back of Castiel's head, fingers digging through the hair there. He suppressed the urge to shiver in delight.

"I believe that was my nose."

"Try again?"

"Definitely."

Dean kissed his chin this time.

"Close but no cigar," Castiel whispered, laughing at Dean's groan of annoyance.

"I can't see a freaking thing in here, it's so dark," Dean complained before reaching forward and kissing the bridge of Castiel's nose. "Wait- did you move?"

"I'm not sure- I think so?"

"Damnit, Cas, I had that calculated perfectly."

"Did you, now?"

"Yeah, I did math and everything."

Castiel smiled. "I'm sorry," he apologized, leaning forward to find Dean's lips.

Little did he know, Dean was doing the same.

They bumped noses, and the two teens pulled back with moans of pain, hands flying up to cradle their injuries as they struggled not to laugh too hard.

"This is so not working," Dean noted, voice nasally from pinching his nose.

Castiel nodded in agreement, rubbing his bruise. "You're right. I'm turning on the lamp," Castiel decided as he rolled to his side to reach the night dresser. His hand fumbled clumsily on top of the wooden table until he found the lamp, switching it on.

"Much better," Dean whispered, squinting against the dull light as his eyes adjusted. He suddenly smiled as Castiel faced him, again. Then he chuckled, removing Castiel's hand from his nose as he gave it a gentle kiss. "I'm sorry," he apologized before placing a kiss on Castiel's lips.

Castiel smiled into the kiss, feeling his heart race and pure delight rush through his veins. "It's alright," he replied before placing a kiss on Dean's injured nose, as well. Dean laughed, putting an arm around Castiel and pulling him so that they were chest to chest, warmth emanating and mingling from their bodies. His hand ran up and down Castiel's arm, palm settling on the curve of Castiel's shoulder, and his fingers making small ministrations there.

"Sorry if I woke you up," Dean whispered, moving his hand to trace up and down Castiel's back. The blue-eyed boy felt goosebumps rise on his skin.

"You didn't. I was already up," Castiel assured. "I'm actually glad you came here. I was fairly close to going to your room, myself."

Dean smiled, and Castiel held his breath as he observed Dean's features. His skin looked golden in the yellowed light- his green eyes suddenly gleaming with a carefree aura. Light touched at his hair- making it resemble a halo that highlighted his already angelic features. For that moment, Dean looked just like he had when they had first met- healthy and happy and glowing. It was as if all the difficulties he had gone through never happened. Castiel found himself smiling back. That was until Dean's smile swiftly fell.

"I'm sorry for everything," Dean whispered, gazing into Castiel's eyes. It took Castiel a moment to realize what he meant.

"Dean, it's fine-"

"No, it's really not. I mean, I know we've made up, but… I don't know, I still feel guilty as hell," Dean admitted. "I promise I'll make it up to you, though."

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed as he gazed back at Dean. He reached out a hand and ran it along Dean's cheek, resting it there. "You already have," he told him. "Honestly. You already have," Castiel added when Dean looked unsure.

The blond was silent for a few minutes. They both just held each other for a while, observing one another with sleepy eyes.

Suddenly, Dean laughed. "Did you actually run here, earlier?" he asked, making Castiel blush.

"Yes," he replied, ducking away from Dean's adoring look. "I felt it was… urgent."

Dean snorted with disbelief, his expression one of awe. "Jesus, Cas, you could put all the track team to shame," Dean complimented.

Castiel smiled at the comment, nestling closer. "Only if they put you at the finish line."

Dean smiled at that. "That was so cheesy."

"I know you liked it."

"I did."

They were silent, again. Then Castiel spoke.

"You should come back to the lunch table," he suggested, looking up into Dean's eyes. The blond suddenly seemed troubled.

"I don't know," Dean responded, frowning. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Dean, we all want you to come back. Jo said so herself," Castiel protested.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "She did?"

Castiel nodded. "She asked me if you were going to be sitting with us at lunch, again. Then she told me to tell you that everyone misses you."

"When did she say that?" Dean asked.

"Uh- today. I, uh, told her about making up with you," Castiel informed the blond, a blush coloring his cheeks.

Dean smiled slightly, reaching forward to plant a kiss on Castiel's lips, fingers reaching to run down Castiel's cheek. "I'll think about it, okay?"

Castiel drew his lips into a worried line as he searched Dean's eyes. "Alright. We do want you back, though," he persisted.

Dean sighed. "Yeah- I know. I wanna come back, too. I just… have a lot of apologies to make," he murmured.

Castiel observed the guilt that suddenly weighed down Dean's features. He didn't like it, not one bit. Giving the blond an encouraging smile, Castiel kissed Dean gently. "It will be alright. I'll help you through it," Castiel promised. "You don't have to do this alone."

Dean's smile was genuine, now, and Castiel's words seemed to ease his tensions. "Thanks, Cas… could you turn off the lamp? 'Think it's time for us to sleep," Dean murmured.

Castiel nodded, feeling weariness weigh down in his bones, and warm his fuzzy mind. "Yes," he agreed, rolling over to turn off the lamp before rolling back into Dean's arms. "Goodnight," he whispered, for real this time.

Dean's arms squeezed Castiel lightly in response. "Goodnight."

It was the easiest Castiel had ever slept.


	27. Birds

An insistent buzzing was what drove Castiel astray from the warm haven around him. He dismissed it, at first, his mind tricking him into believing it was a part of his dream.

It was such a nice dream…

Castiel was in a park, running across the grass to the awaiting figure of his mother. She outstretched her arms and he leaped in, warmth trickling through his dew-dampened t-shirt and summoning goosebumps on his skin. Light brown hair tickled at his nose, dancing about his face in accordance with the wind.

Red flashed in the corner of Castiel's perception, and his head instinctively turned towards the source of the bright color. Anna was kneeling beside him, a smile on her face- signature doe-eyes bright and big. She was handing her brother a sandwich- turkey, the ones he made with his father before they left. He still had mustard stains on the parts of his jeans where he had wiped his fingers (despite his father's warnings) while he helped prepare their picnic. It settled right in with his numerous grass and dirt stains.

Plastic wrapping crinkled as the bread gave in to the press of Castiel's grip, leaving little dips where his fingertips pressed. He instantly got up, giving Anna her seat on their mother's lap back as he made his way over to his father, nestling into his strong, comforting side.

Castiel worked at the plastic wrapping with annoyance, his small and chubby fingers serving as a handicap. He fumbled clumsily with the crinkly foil that guarded him from his meal as it refused to yield to his many attempts in opening it.

A deep chuckle shook Castiel's body and buzzed about him as the sandwich was taken out of his grasp, opened by his father's more skilled hands- strong hands that wound around Castiel to bring him closer as his lunch was returned to him.

Castiel melted into his father's side, smiling around the first bite of his turkey as a warm hand settled on his knee. Rumbling shook the man's chest, and Castiel listened to that rather than to the words his father was speaking. He could tell by the tone that he was chiding Gabriel, and upon looking up he saw a bird caught in the dirt-smeared hands of his older brother.

Gabriel was wearing a sheepish expression, but once he gathered Castiel's attention he instantly lit up, beckoning his little brother forward with nods of his head that caused overgrown hair to flop over his forehead.

Castiel got up, sandwich forgotten, and made his way to his brother- blue eyes wide with wonder. The bird was mostly brown with a contrasting fluff of white feathers spilled over its chest. It didn't struggle in Gabriel's grasp, but instead turned its beady black eyes to Castiel in order to inspect him.

Gabriel coaxed Castiel forward with comforting words, holding the winged animal still. Castiel obliged to his brother's insistence and reached his hand out to stroke silky smooth feathers. A chirp met his ears. He giggled.

Bread. Gabriel asked Castiel to get some bread.

Nodding with enthusiasm, Castiel went over to his mother, pulling at her arm to gather her attention. She laughed- a beautiful sound- and took the crusts from Anna's sandwich (she always ripped them off, Anna didn't like crusts on her peanut butter sandwiches), handing them to Castiel. The child watched in awe as his mother ripped a piece of crust into tinier pieces, settling them into Castiel's palm. Then she urged him back to Gabriel with a smile, Anna watching attentively from her safe spot by their mother.

Castiel returned to his older brother, practically jumping with excitement as he presented the bread crumbs. Gabriel laughed at Castiel's enthusiasm, then moved the bird forward. It pecked crumbs carefully from Castiel's palms, tickling him and making him burst out in fits of giggles. He watched in fascination, though, observing the way the bird simply swallowed the bread.

_Do birds have teeth, Gabriel?_

_No, not this one._

A furrowed brow accompanied a pout of lips.  _Then how does it eat?_

Gabe smiled fondly, not one trace of annoyance present at his brother's questions.  _It uses its tongue and beak._

Castiel processed this new information as the brown bird finished off the last of the crumbs. Once he finished brushing his hands on his jeans, Castiel reached out to pet the bird once more-

But was interrupted by it giving a harsh peck to Gabriel's thumb.

With a yelp, Gabriel tossed the bird up, releasing it to fly above them where it escaped in a flurry of squawks and feathers. The air was practically knocked out of Castiel by the force of his laughter, and he could hear his father's amused voice lecturing Gabriel among his family's guffaws. Gabriel rubbed at his finger with a pout on his face.

A long feather landed on the grass.

Gabriel gave it to Castiel- a red mark flashing on his thumb.

It was really warm that day…

"Castiel."

The sun was shining bright…

"Castiel."

His father's arms were strong and warm.

"Cas."

His mother's hug was soft and gentle.

_Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz._

The warmth slipped away, and the buzzing stopped. Why was the warmth gone? He wanted it back… wanted it…

Castiel jolted awake, opening his eyes to the sight of a figure beside him as it moved closer to him. Light trickled in from all angles, and Castiel was trying to figure out when his parents had put him to bed…. Then, all of a sudden, the warmth returned.

"Morning, lazy ass," a voice spoke.

Castiel blinked a few times, forcing his eyes open when they begged to droop down and shut permanently- if not for just a few more hours.... He was in a bedroom. He was on a bed. This wasn't his bed… this wasn't the park. He could've sworn he was at the park… he could still feel those feathers and taste the tang of mustard.

Green eyes.

Castiel was more awake, now, and he observed the freckled face that gazed at him. "Taking a while to come back to earth?" Dean teased.

Dean's arm was around Castiel. That was where the warmth came from.

And, suddenly, Castiel's heart was racing.

"Dean," he spoke.

The blond smiled. Castiel took a moment to assess his situation before the events of the previous day came rushing back at him, slowly dwindling away memories of a park and angry brown birds.

"Oh," Castiel uttered.

Dean looked at Castiel weirdly, and the dark haired teen gave an apologetic smile before nuzzling closer. "Morning," he spoke into Dean's t-shirt, fingers settling on the curve of Dean's hip.

Lips planted a kiss on Castiel's hair, and he smiled into Dean's chest, returning the gesture. For a moment Castiel just tuned himself in to the beat of Dean's heart and the warmth of his body pressed so close… he wondered if their hearts were beating at the same pace… spreading life throughout them at equal rates. He wondered….

"You were laughing in your sleep," Dean spoke.

The park. He remembered, again. Castiel smiled sadly, upset that it was only a dream. Waking up to Dean was just as sweet, though, so he found that he did not mind all that much.

"I had a nice dream," he explained.

Dean hummed, and the action shook his chest, buzzing against Castiel.

_A deep chuckle shook Castiel's body and buzzed about him as the sandwich was taken out of his grasp, opened by his father's more skilled hands…_

"What was it about?" Dean asked, fingers tracing up and down Castiel's spine. Castiel shivered, focusing so intensely on Dean's ministrations that he almost forgot to answer.

Castiel contemplated the question. How could he explain something so precious  _and_  do it justice all at once?

"Birds," he found himself saying.

He could almost hear Dean's eyebrow raise. "Birds?"

Castiel smiled wide, lifting his face up to meet Dean's. Lovely green eyes gazed back at him, searching Castiel as he tried to understand. Castiel leaned forward, giving frowning lips a kiss. "Birds," he confirmed, his smile somehow lifting the corners of Dean's mouth, as well.

A chuckle presented itself, and Dean shook his head. "Alright, then. Birds- or whatever."

When Castiel nodded, Dean smiled. They rested their foreheads together, and Castiel found that his eyes were starting to fall shut, once more. Relaxing, he listened to Dean's calm breathing… he tried to think about parks and turkey sandwiches and grass stains in hopes that he could continue his dream. That didn't happen, though. Dean's voice stirred him to consciousness, again.

"Is there a reason you dreamed about birds?" he asked in a curious tone.

Castiel hummed in thought, burying his face into the curve of Dean's neck. It was really warm… it held the faded scent of aftershave. "Birds can fly. They're really free. It's nice to dream about," he answered simply.

Another kiss on his hair. "Yeah, I guess you're right," Dean decided to agree.

Dean was so warm… he smelled nice.

Castiel smiled softly as he cuddled into Dean, his fingers playing with the hem of the blond's night shirt, "accidentally" making contact with the smooth skin that laid underneath. When cracking his eyelids open, he could see Dean's face go red as his hand stilled on Castiel's back, fingers pressing into him to draw him nearer. They remained like that, held in one another's arms.

"Oh," Dean suddenly spoke, propping himself up on his elbow. "Your phone's alarm went off," Dean informed, reaching over Castiel and unplugging the old thing from its charger. "Here."

Castiel shook his head. "Just a notice for work. I've got plenty of time," Castiel assured as he flicked a dismissive hand, pulling at Dean's shirt to bring him back.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "What time do you work?" he asked.

"Nine. Now c'mere," Castiel ordered, getting grouchy. He was cold and he just wanted to lie down next to Dean forever.

"Cas, it's seven forty."

Castiel huffed out a sigh, placing a hand on Dean's side as he moved closer, himself, giving up on trying to get Dean to budge. "Good. That should give us another hour to sleep."

Dean snorted, now, although Castiel could feel him relaxing into his grip. "Don't tempt me," he murmured as he settled against Castiel. "There's nothing I'd rather do."

"Mmm, then stay," Castiel yawned.

Dean sighed. "No, we can't. C'mon, get up. If you sleep now you'll never wake up on time."

Castiel shook his head. " _Deeaaann_ , please don't make me-"

Suddenly, Dean pulled away, grasping gently at Castiel's arms as he rolled him onto his back. Castiel was met with the sight of Dean's smile as he hovered directly above. The blond teen leaned in, giving Castiel a quick kiss that tingled his lips and almost overwhelmed his poor, frantically beating heart. They were in a very close… very  _intimate_  proximity... Castiel had to calm the way his face flushed at the thought.

"Come on, up," Dean urged, pulling Castiel into an upright position. "Get changed and I'll make you tea, yeah?"

Castiel perked up at that, and Dean smiled. "Take that as a yes. I'm heading to the kitchen. Don't go back to sleep," he warned as he got off the bed. Castiel's gaze lingered on Dean's retreating form until the door closed, barring the way.

The bed was still warm with Dean's lingering body heat- settling deep into the blankets and mattress in oppression to the cold of the room. Castiel ran a hand over the spot where Dean laid, letting the heat seep into his fingers before he got up, changing into his uniform with an air of stubbornness. He then headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth and pop on his contacts, taking a longer time than usual to check his appearance.

After settling with the fact that there was nothing he could do about his bedhead, Castiel made his way to the kitchen where he could hear the clinking of mugs and the bubbling of boiling liquids. Dean was pouring some coffee into one mug while another sat beside it, teabag string dangling off the rim.

Castiel stood in the doorway to the kitchen, observing Dean for a moment. He found that he was still shocked with the quick turn his life had made, although he could hardly complain. Things were better when he was with Dean.

Things were better for both of them.

A smile on his face, Castiel made his way over to Dean, taking hold of his arm and pulling him near. Dean set down the carafe before turning to meet Castiel just in time for his kiss. His hand settled on the small of Dean's back, bringing him forward instinctively as he molded their lips together. It was warm and sweet and Castiel had to end the kiss after only a few intoxicating seconds of overwhelming senses. He gazed into Dean's shocked, yet pleased, eyes for a moment before offering a smile.

Dean let out a breathy laugh. "I should make you tea more often," he joked as he handed a mug over, earning an sheepish grin from Castiel.

"Sorry," he apologized, accepting the warm drink. He looked around them to check if Sam was there. After realizing the coast was clear, Castiel felt himself relax. "I probably should have made sure we were alone, first."

Dean smiled, and Castiel felt his heart do a flip in his chest. "Well," he said with a shrug, "Sam's gotta find out sooner or later, right?"

Castiel gave Dean a look. "I do not believe that would be the best way to tell him."

Dean hummed in agreement as grabbed his own mug. "Anyways, Sam doesn't wake up during weekends until ten the earliest, remember?" Dean informed with a laugh. "I'm pretty sure we're safe."

Castiel smiled against the rim of his mug, blowing at the scorching liquid so he could take a safe sip. "Do you or Sam even drink tea?" Castiel asked, intrigued at the thought. He had never seen them drink it, yet they still had it lying around. And Bobby didn't seem like the tea type....

At Castiel's statement, Dean suddenly found the task of cleaning a spoon to be very interesting. "Uh, no, not really. I got it for you after Thanksgiving... you said you don't drink coffee, and-" Dean shrugged.

Castiel tilted his head as he watched Dean. A smile curled the corners of his mouth, despite his best efforts to remain nonchalant. "Thank you."

Dean shrugged, again.

Castiel held back laughter. "I did not think you'd take note of that," he admitted, unable to help himself.

Dean's face was bright red, now. "Oh, shut up," he mumbled, picking up his coffee mug and taking a deep sip, not even blowing on the black liquid to cool it. Castiel winced at the action.

They stood there for a moment, and Castiel leaned against a counter top as he nursed his drink, taking a sip every now and then. The herbal taste tingled at his tongue and made its way down his throat, warming him inside out. He didn't even realize his eyes were closed until Dean pointed it out.

"I don't think it's a good idea to fall asleep standing," he advised as Castiel's eyes snapped open.

Castiel moaned in protest before he stretched. Dean guided them both to the dining table. "It's your fault for forcing me out of bed at seven in the morning," he replied, grouchily. Dean only laughed at his foul mood.

"Hey, don't worry. After I drop you off at work I'll get enough sleep for both of us," Dean teased. Castiel shot him a glare.

"I hate you," he growled, although he made it clear he was joking when a smile tugged at a corner of his lips.

"No you don't."

"I only like you for your tea."

A snort. "That's a lie, I make crappy tea."

Castiel shrugged, taking another cautious sip. "It hasn't poisoned me, yet."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks, Cas. That means a lot."

Castiel laughed, kicking lightly at Dean's foot under the table and resting it there. "Do you have work, today?" he asked.

Dean nodded. "From three till eleven. When do you get off?"

Castiel frowned. "Four. Our schedules are conflicting," he noted, slightly depressed at the fact that he wouldn't be able to spend his day with Dean. They had just started hanging out, again. And Castiel would be lying if he said he wasn't hoping for more cuddling….

Dean screwed his lips together as he thought, and Castiel tried to keep his gaze upwards. "I could see you on my lunch break?"

Castiel shook his head. "That would be too much trouble for you. I will grab a ride from Adam and Jo and just head home. Adam has been taking me home after work, recently," Castiel informed.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "After? How do you get  _to_  work?"

"I walk," Castiel replied with a confused eye squint accompanied with a head tilt. How else would he get to work, if not by car?

Dean sent Castiel an appraising look. "I'll say it again, Cas- track team. Have you ever considered joining?" he asked.

Castiel shrugged. "When I was little, yes." Dean seemed intrigued with this information.

"You could totally kick ass!" he exclaimed. "Why don't you try out?"

Castiel gave Dean an eyebrow raise. "In case you do not recall, most of Alastair's friends are on the track team," Castiel pointed out.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well screw 'em. You could replace the whole team. It'd do the school a favor."

Castiel shook his head, although he was smiling. "You overestimate my abilities, Dean."

"Ah, well I think that you're underestimating them," Dean retorted with a smug grin before he took a sip of his coffee. Castiel left the topic at that, instead focusing on the way Dean's lips molded against the mug, tongue darting out to catch the lingering drops of coffee that slid down the side. He averted his attention again before Dean could catch him.

"Would you like to come into the diner, today?" Castiel asked hopefully. Dean drew into himself.

"I'd rather not…" he admitted. Castiel felt dismayed at the answer, his heart sinking. But he had to keep trying.

"Why not?" he asked. "I promise you I wasn't lying. Everyone misses you. You could say hi to Ash and Jo, today, and then on Monday we can all sit together, again."

Dean shrugged. "You remember Lisa, right?" he asked. When Castiel cringed, Dean gave a sad smile. "Well, she helped me through a lot these past few months. Her friends- they've basically brought me in and treated me really great. I don't wanna ditch them, y'know? I think I've had enough of ditching good people."

Castiel tilted his head. "You could invite them to sit with us. I'm sure the others wouldn't mind."

Dean sighed as he set his mug down. "You're really not going to drop this, are you?" he asked, looking up at Castiel. When Castiel didn't reply, Dean gave in. "Alright, fine, I will. Jesus," he exclaimed, reclining in his seat and cradling his mug against his chest, now. Castiel grinned.

"Thank you," he spoke. Dean waved his hand.

"I need to make everything up to them, anyways. I'd better start apologizing sooner rather than later."

Castiel nodded. "I agree. Although I think it will take less apologizing than you think. They all ask about you. Everyone is more… confused, rather than angry."

Dean sat up in his seat. "So… you and Jo… you guys didn't say anything?"

Castiel traced the rim of his mug with tip of his finger. He shrugged one shoulder. "It… wasn't our place. It's your decision on what you'd like your friends to know, and what you want them not to know."

Dean gave a slight smile. "Thanks, Cas."

They finished up their drinks in a comfortable silence, until Castiel's phone buzzed with another alarm in his pocket.

He checked the time. "Thirty minutes," Castiel informed. Dean stood up, grabbing both their mugs and placing them in the sink.

"I'm gonna change real quick," Dean informed. "I'll be right back."

Castiel nodded, and once Dean was away he texted Jo.

_Castiel: Are you and Ash going to be in during opening?_

A few moments later.

_Jo: Yeah! Is Dean comin in?_

_Castiel: Yes, I've managed to convince him. Tell Ash, please?_

He wasn't going to admit it, but Castiel was feeling just as nervous as Dean. He wanted things to get back to the way they were more than anything. To think that it would all finally be happening… it was strange.

His phone buzzed with a message.

_Jo: Sure, I will :) See u in a few._

_Castiel: See you, Jo._

At that moment, Dean walked back into the kitchen, slinging his jacket on. "You ready?" he asked as he grabbed his keys from a hook near the dining table. Castiel nodded, standing up. When he was up, Dean looked him up and down, making Castiel halt in his footsteps.

Castiel suddenly felt self-conscious, looking down at his outfit. Did he put his shirt on backwards…? "What is it?" he asked when he looked back up at Dean.

Dean suddenly looked up, smiling. He reached out to pull Castiel in by his apron. The dark haired teen felt his breath catch in his throat, and he put his hands on Dean's arms to steady himself. Dean leaned in slightly, looking into Castiel's eyes for permission. Castiel only gazed at Dean's lips, trying to remind himself to breathe as their warm breaths intertwined. Dean's smile softened before he kissed him, reaching out to lightly lick at Castiel's lips and wet them before pressing their lips together- a press and slot of soft lips caressing him lovingly. Castiel breathed in Dean, focusing on the feel and shape of his mouth, his heart out of control and his eyes closing. The wet slide of a tongue passed over his lower lip before they parted their lips. "I like the way you look in your uniform," Dean admitted in a hushed tone, continuing their kisses. "Black is a nice look on you..." another kiss, "you look attractive as hell," Dean breathed out, going back in and tracing Castiel's teeth with his tongue in a shy, teasing manner. Castiel could feel his knees threaten to buckle. "Jesus, Cas, you just always look really good," Dean added with a light laugh.

Castiel smiled against Dean's lips, pulling away slightly before he could be tempted to give in to more kisses. "Keep this up and I don't think I'll be able to force myself to go to work," he murmured, surprised that he could manage to talk at all, let alone compose an articulate sentence. Dean smiled brightly- a flash of white teeth.

"That doesn't sound so bad," he murmured, moving in to place a kiss on the corner of Castiel's mouth.

Castiel's heart leaped in his chest, and how he found the strength to let go of Dean, he had no idea. "Jo and Ash are waiting," he reminded the blond teen.

Dean sighed dramatically, although he was smiling. "Yeah, alright. Let's go."

They held hands the entire drive.

* * *

When they reached the front door of the diner, Dean froze in his footsteps. Castiel paused, looking over at the blond teen.

Dean looked completely panicked.

"Dean," Castiel called out.

Dean snapped his head towards Castiel, his eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"Cas, I can't-"

Castiel put a hand on Dean's shoulder, looking into his eyes. "Remember what I told you," he murmured. Dean's shoulder dropped as he took a deep breath.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

They walked inside.

The diner was already busy with the beginning of the morning routine. The smell of food preparing was in the air- Ellen's voice could be heard directing Meg (who had recently become an assistant chef). Jo and Ash were nowhere to be seen. They were probably preparing plates and silverware.

"This way," Castiel advised Dean with a smile, leading him to the counter where he was meant to check himself in. "Jo and Ash should be-"

"Cas!" Jo's voice exclaimed.

The two teens turned to the source of the voice. Jo was walking towards them, towel on hand, which she quickly tucked away into her apron as she grew closer. Ash was by her side, a disbelieving look on his face that he quickly hid in favor of a smile.

As soon as they were over, Jo leaped at Dean with a bone-crushing hug. Dean was frozen with shock, at first, but a soft smile quickly found its way to his face as he wrapped his arms back tightly around her, burying his face in her hair. Castiel grinned.

Jo whispered something to Dean that Castiel couldn't catch, and suddenly Dean was laughing, rather wetly, before lifting his face from Jo to give her a big smile- one that he gave to Castiel a second later.

To be honest… Castiel was shocked.

It had to be the happiest he had ever seen Dean.

And that made his heart do little happy flips in his chest as he returned the smile, happiness making his eyes prickle with tears of relief. When Jo let go of Dean, Ash came in, giving him a hug, as well, before pulling away to pat him on the shoulder.

"Nice to see you again, amigo," he spoke with a goofy grin. "Where the hell have you been?" he asked. Dean laughed.

"Sorry, man. I had to take care of some things." Dean replied, offering a guilty smile.

"You're coming back, though. Right?" Jo asked, looking up hopefully at him.

Dean met Castiel's eyes, and Castel gave him a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, I am."

Castiel felt a tidal wave of excitement overwhelm him, and it took everything he had not to tackle Dean right at this moment and kiss him till they both couldn't breathe. Instead, he kept his place by Jo's side, a ridiculously big smile on his face as he watched the scene before him.

"Awesome," Ash spoke. "We kept your seat at the lunch table warm for you," he informed the blond. "It's awaiting your return."

Dean laughed, again. "I'll be there."

Ellen's voice called out to Jo from the kitchen.

"Alright then, sir, unless you will be dining here now is my cue to kick you out," Jo said with a smirk, pushing at Dean's shoulder. "We open in a few," she told Ash and Castiel.

"I'll walk you back out," Castiel offered, tagging alongside Dean. Jo raised a teasing eyebrow at the two before directing Ash to the back where they would heed to Ellen's instructions. Once Castiel and Dean were out by the safety of the Impala, Dean spoke.

"Are you sure you don't want me to see you during my break?" he asked, looking around them before taking hold of Castiel's hand, drawing him near.

Castiel smiled, rubbing a thumb over Dean's hand. "I'm sure. It'll be alright. I can see you on Monday?"

Dean frowned slightly, and Castiel could tell he didn't like the sound of that. "My father is coming home from work, tonight. He will expect me to be there," Castiel explained.

With a sigh, Dean nodded. "Yeah, it's fine. Monday, then," he agreed, smiling.

Castiel checked the parking lot before leaning forward to give Dean a kiss. Dean pressed into it, his hand settling on Castiel's hip as he pulled him in. Butterflies fluttered about Castiel's belly, and he reached out a hand to cradle Dean's cheek before they separated.

"I'll text you," he murmured against Dean, unable to help himself as he reached in for another kiss.

Dean nodded, eyes half lidded as he gazed down at Castiel's lips. He pulled away, giving Castiel's hand a squeeze. "Yeah."

As he climbed into the Impala, Dean spoke out.

"I don't know how you expect me to last 'till Monday," he teased, earning a laugh from Castiel.

"Goodbye, Dean."

He winked before he drove off.

Castiel's heart was still racing.

* * *

They ended up spending Sunday together, after all.


	28. Just Wait

It was strange waking up, all of a sudden. Ever since the events that took place back in January, Castiel would wake up to the same feeling of robotic emptiness as he propelled himself through the repetitive, mindless motions of a regular day. It wasn't a foreign feeling, of course. In fact, Castiel had accustomed himself to this routine through a large part of his life. Once one gets a taste of the good life, though, they tend to grow attached to any bit of it they can grasp. Castiel had let his friends spoil him with kindness. He had grown too incredibly dependent on Dean's presence, in particular.

He still found that to be very odd. Never before had Castiel felt the need for the company of another person as much as he had with Dean. To call it mere friendship was quite ridiculous, now that Castiel looked back at it. The relationship between Dean and him was anything but platonic. They both knew that the moment they interacted in the back of Mrs. Madison's British literature class. To be completely honest, Castiel knew what he had signed himself up for the second he let Dean into his closed-off life.

Dean brought friendship to Castiel- not just his own, but also the friendship of Sam and the group. With those friendships came love, something Castiel fantasized about since the day his father turned on him. With the love, came vulnerability.

Castiel didn't like the vulnerability.

For so long Castiel depended on himself. He was his shoulder to cry on. He was his own support. He was the one he consulted.

It was safer that way. Cumbersome and lonely,  _but safer._

And Castiel couldn't help but let his doubts run through his mind as he shucked on his coat, waiting for his phone to buzz with the signal of Dean's arrival.

Instead, the telltale rumble of an engine met his ears. Moments later, Castiel was outside, his face meeting the cool March air. The Impala greeted him, humming proudly and carrying within it his first two friends.

Castiel's worries melted away, if only a bit.

As he climbed inside, Castiel was greeted with hellos and a conversation on when he'd be tutoring Sam next. They planned out a date, and things already seemed to be going back to normal.

But the nagging continued. The nagging always continued.

How long would this last? How long? When should Castiel prepare for it to be over? Would it be his own fault? Would he drive away all promises of friendship? Would he rid himself of those close to him, just like Anna and Gabriel?

Just like his mother and father….

A warm hand on his wrist. Castiel blinked, adjusting to his surroundings. Sam wasn't in the car, anymore. Dean was calling his name.

"Hey, you alright?" Dean asked, eyeing him carefully. They were in the school parking lot. Castiel's legs were stiff.

Castiel met Dean's concerned gaze, and offered up a smile. "I'm fine, sorry," he spoke, gathering his backpack.

Dean was not easily convinced. "Are you sure?" he persisted, hesitantly. Dean was never good with pursuing topics like this. Castiel noticed, and he took that to his own advantage.

"Yes. I'm just tired, I suppose."

Dean smiled slightly. It didn't reach his eyes. They walked to the school.

Before they reached the doors, Dean caught the cuff of Castiel's sleeve between his thumb and forefinger. It was a small gesture, one nobody around them took note of. But it caught Castiel's attention, and he turned to look into his friend's eyes. Dean led Castiel aside, away from possible stray eyes.

"Promise me things won't be like before," Dean whispered, his stare boring intensely into Castiel.

Needless to say, Castiel was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Dean's lips shifted into a frown, but he wasn't irritated. He seemed to think to himself as he searched for the right words to say. Eyes flicking momentarily to the crowd of people walking into the doors, he averted his gaze back to Castiel. "No more secrets. Just be honest with me, okay?"

Castiel's heart sped up. "I am being honest."

Now Dean was annoyed. "No, Cas. Just-" a sigh. Dean worked on his lip, sucking it in and biting on it to stop his words. After composing himself, he spoke again. "Listen, it took a lot on my part just to bring this up, okay? The secrets are what ruined things before. We both kept things to ourselves, and it fucked things up. I just…" another sigh, "I want you to be straight with me, okay? Tell me whatever you're thinking. I don't give a damn how small you think it is. If something's on your mind, you can tell me."

His fingers let go. The parking lot emptied. Castiel was stunned still.

Dean was right- that much was obvious. They both lied to each other relentlessly before their fight. They lied and assured one another that things were fine. As scary as it would be, Castiel knew he would have to open up to Dean. It would take a while, but he'd have to do it.

Knowing that Dean would do the same filled Castiel with comfort, and he could feel the tense muscles of his shoulders gradually loosen.

Not sure whether others were still around- and not really caring, if he was going to be honest with himself- Castiel grasped onto the lapels of Dean's jacket and pulled him close, kissing him long and hard. The warmth of Dean's lips and breath seeped into him, chasing away the cold and all thoughts of  _when, when, when, when?_ Nagging worries seemed to slip away, bit by bit- kiss after kiss. After they parted, Dean was helplessly confused.

Castiel searched Dean's eyes, exhaling away the weight in his chest as he tried to reclaim the previous steadiness of his heartbeat. When he tried to talk, Castiel found that he could not form any words to express his thoughts with accuracy. He only stared at Dean as his grip lessened to a featherlight touch. Dean returned the gaze, answering Castiel's action. Castiel knew he didn't need to say anything. The look in Dean's eyes told him he understood.

Waking up to the promise of Dean's presence was thrilling. It was scary, yes, but it was a good sort of scary. It was the sort that left Castiel desperate and hopelessly falling faster and faster into foreignly beautiful feelings. It was exhilarating, falling in love. At the same time, though, it wa s terrifying.

But with Dean, Castiel knew he'd be safe. He knew Dean was here to stay. That was something definite. Castiel was more sure about that than anything else, these days.

The teen had no idea what was to come. To be honest, it was better that way.

* * *

A short distance away, a figure ducked behind a car. It had seen the whole thing.

* * *

Describing the group's reaction as enthralled with Dean's return would be an understatement. The absolute excitement that radiated from such a small lunch table was outstanding. It tore away at the heavy veil that fell upon them all with Dean's departure, filling the hole that he had left. Charlie hugged Dean for what seemed like a solid minute, and the others greeted him with smiles and back pats, presenting the teen with his long-awaited chair. Dean was beaming as he sat down amongst his friends, and Castiel couldn't help but smile, as well.

Soon, the inevitable question was spoken.

"So where the hell have you been, Winchester?" Adam asked from his place beside Jo. Dean sent his friend the most apologetic look he could muster. He did that a lot, lately. It seemed as if guilt would always follow Dean Winchester- embedding itself deep within his chest.

"Just had some things to take care of," Dean replied. Castiel could tell that Dean hated not being able to tell his friends everything. It was the best he could do for now, though. The whole story would be too much, especially after such an emotionally wrecking last few months for them all. Perhaps both Castiel and Dean would explain the situation better once things settled down.

The group was content enough with the explanation, albeit so with an air of unspoken questions. They were happy with Dean's return, and that was all that mattered, at the moment.

The questions could be saved for later.

Almost instantly, they planned a get together for Friday night, in order to get their comfortable routine back in order. Charlie offered up her place for the occasion, planning a day of mini golf followed by a sleepover at her house. Castiel opted out of the sleepover bit, since his father would be home all this week. Chuck opted out as well, murmuring about how he was grounded and had a new curfew of ten o'clock for a month. Castiel winced, recalling them both getting in trouble during math for talking and working together on individual work. Emails had been sent home, and Castiel's father was very unhappy with the news. Castiel's fingers fluttered momentarily to the bruise on his rib, a less-than-subtle reminder his father had placed to make sure he'd "focus more in class".

Sympathies were sent to Chuck, and he laughed it off as he explained the whole ordeal.

"I still don't know how you got away with it at home," Chuck told his friend. "You didn't even get grounded."

Castiel smiled, slightly. "I suppose I got lucky."

The unpleasant memory slowly slipped away as the group thoroughly discussed their plans.

Halfway through lunch, Dean excused himself from the table, telling everyone he'd be right back. Castiel's gaze followed Dean like a hawk as he made his way to his old lunch table, sitting next to a girl who greeted him with a big smile. They talked for a moment, and the group could catch Dean gesturing to their lunch table. The girl he was sitting next to glanced back at them, looking at Dean and speaking with a concerned posture. She shook her head, and after a couple more seconds of talking, Dean returned to his friends.

"What was that about?" Jo asked once Dean sat back down.

Dean shrugged. "I've been sitting with Lisa's friends for a while," he explained. "I was just telling them that I'm sitting with you guys, again."

"You should've invited them to our table," Ash spoke up. The rest of the group spoke their consent to the suggestion.

Dean smiled. "Yeah, I tried. Molly said she didn't wanna intrude, or whatever. I mean, it's fine, though. I didn't really do much participation at their table. I'll see them in class, later."

"You sure? We could all go sit there if you'd like?" Chuck offered.

Dean looked around at his friends, then caught Castiel's eyes. Castiel straightened up in his seat, and Dean looked away, giving another smile before answering. "I'm sure."

A warm foot bumped Castiel's, resting against him comfortingly. Castiel smiled around his sandwich, chewing slowly and trying to contain his grin.

Things were back to normal.

* * *

Castiel was walking outside to Dean's car when it happened. The air around him was relatively warmer than the past few months. Students were filing out to their cars, slinging jackets onto shoulders and laughing into the clean, buzzing air. The promise of spring was slowly drawing nearer. Overall, Castiel felt good.

That was until Alastair smiled at him.

Then a sudden cold hand grasped at his heart.

Now, normally, a person smiling at another person wouldn't be such a bad thing. In fact, it would be a completely normal thing to do. But this was Alastair. Smiling couldn't mean good news. He didn't even do anything else but grin in a happy, confident sort of manner. And that meant something terrible was brewing.

Castiel instinctively looked around for Dean, panicking when he didn't see him. He had told Dean to go ahead to the car after lit., since he had to stop by his health class to pick up a textbook he had left there. Dean had agreed, and now Castiel was about to come face to face with Alastair. As Alastair grew closer, Castiel froze in his spot as he awaited a push or shove or something of that sort of nature.

It didn't come.

Alastair did speak, though.

"Nice weather, eh Cassie?"

And that was it. Before he could even assemble an answer, Alastair was well gone, crossing the parking lot and climbing into his pickup truck. He drove away along with the other students, disappearing into the crowd until all that was left of him was the still icy grasp Castiel felt within his chest.

Swallowing back the harsh lump in his throat, Castiel managed to clear his head enough to find Dean's sleek black car and slip into the passenger seat where he nearly collapsed into the leather material.

"So I know we sorta cheated yesterday by hanging out, but do you still wanna come over today?" Dean asked with a smile, looking over at his friend.

Castiel blinked, not registering anything that the blond teen had said. "Sorry, what?"

Dean raised an eyebrow before he repeated himself. "Are we hanging out today?" he repeated with an amused grin.

Castiel attempted a smile, nodding. "Yes- sorry, of course."

Dean studied Castiel for a moment before he pulled out of the parking lot, heading to Sammy's school. "You feeling okay? You look kinda sick."

"No- I'm fine. I'm just sleepy, I think." So much lying. Wasn't it only this morning when he promised himself he'd work on that?

Dean screwed his lips into a worried pout. "I can take you home," he offered. "We don't have to hang out today if you're not up to it."

Castiel looked over at Dean, and reached out to take his free hand. Dean's fingers were warm, and they curled around Castiel's numb ones, instantly thawing them out. Castiel suddenly realized that his palms were sweaty from his fright, but when he tried to subtly pull away Dean squeezed his hand slightly.

"My hand is sweaty," Castiel murmured. Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, and it's freezing, too," the blond noted. "I don't care," he added, turning to give Castiel a quick smile before he diverted his attention back to the road. Castiel felt a twitch lift his lips, and his heart slowly started to calm as he relaxed and let thoughts of Alastair slip away.

He could worry about that, later.

"So, you want me to take you home?" Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head. "No, we need to study. Besides, Sam needs help with Physics."

"Alright, then."

When they got to Dean's house, Castiel sat down with Sam in the dining room. Only a half an hour later, books were sprawled messily across the table, and Sam had a hand in his hair as he listened carefully, pushing back the brown locks from his forehead. There were empty bowls that once contained ramen, sauce still collected along the ring on the bottom of the platters. Sam and Cas had basically banned Dean from the dining room after he kept poking fun at Sam, and now the blond was sitting in the living room and working on reading quiz notes for History.

Castiel was working hard to get Sam caught up with the things that they hadn't been able to go through, previously. It was mostly the application of definitions that Sam seemed to be having a difficult time with. Castiel explained the meaning of the vocab, and he wrote down examples that Sam could remember in order to memorize their uses. They worked on that for a good hour, and then they moved on to equations. Castiel instructed Sam on what each of them solved, when to use them, and how. He provided questions that they could work through together, and he even drew a few different diagrams for Sam to label. They were two hours into studying and working on a concave lens diagram when Dean interrupted, again.

"You need a hair-tie, Samantha?" he asked, smiling smugly as he sat at the dining table, plopping down on a chair across from them. Sam rolled his eyes, yanking his hand out of his hair and using it to throw a crumpled up piece of paper from one of his failed attempts at a diagram. Dean dodged it.

"Go away," Sam ordered, glaring at his older brother (although it wasn't very convincing). "You're throwing me off- I  _just_ had this," Sam complained as he erased the labels on his diagram, rewriting them and murmuring to himself as he tried to get back on track.

"Eh- you probably got it wrong, anyways," Dean teased. He smiled happily at the sight of his brother, though, so the insult sort of fell apart on itself.

Another glare from Sam.

Castiel looked up from his Chemistry textbook, now, eyes locking with Dean. Dean grinned, kicking Castiel's foot playfully, and Castiel smiled back. He turned to face Sam. "Shall I rid us of the nuisance?" he asked, earning a laugh from Dean.

"Yes,  _please_ ," Sam begged, laughing as well, despite himself.

"It'll only be a moment," Castiel excused himself, scooting back his chair and mock-forcing Dean to the living room by his arm. Dean went more than willingly, but he put up a fake struggle for show.

When they reached the living room, shielded from Sam's gaze, Dean raised a suggestive eyebrow, placing a hand on Castiel's hip as he pulled him near.

Castiel gave Dean a warning look, unable to help but smile through it. "Don't you dare," he spoke, gently shoving Dean away by the shoulder. "Not when Sam is in the next room."

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's not like he can see us," he complained, trying again to pull Castiel closer.

Castiel was smiling softly, now, and he let his fingers run down Dean's arm. "You're insane," he laughed.

Eyes brightened as a smile stretched Dean's lips. "Just one kiss," Dean promised, looking at Castiel with those big green-

"No, not now."

"I need it. For motivational purposes."

"That's not how studying works."

"Says you."

Eye crinkles. That dumb, goofy grin. The way his tongue barely touched his lower lip….

Castiel noticed a slight increase in the temperature.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Castiel gave in. " _Fine_ ," he agreed before leaning in and giving Dean a quick kiss, which the blond leaned into. Castiel could feel something kick in his stomach as warmth suddenly pooled through him. When they parted, Dean looked pleased enough, smiling smugly before sitting down on the couch.

"How's the studying going?" Dean asked.

Castiel smiled. "Fairly well, I suppose. Sam is catching up fast."

Dean smiled softly. "Thanks, Cas." He pulled a notebook and flashcards towards himself. The index cards were then put on the arm of the couch and the notebook on his lap. Dean's history book was closed, and he was now working on something else. Castiel noticed a bunch of web articles sprawled about the couch.

"Are you working on your research paper?" he asked.

Dean nodded in confirmation. "I hate this sort of stuff. I'm fine with the creative essays we did before, but this crap sucks," he complained. "So much pointless research."

Castiel laughed. "You'll do fine," he reassured. Dean grunted in sarcastic agreement, bent over his work.

Realizing that Dean wasn't going to look up from his papers anytime soon, Castiel dragged the living room table over and steadied it in front of Dean, grabbing the articles and spreading them neatly on the table, stacking the note cards there, as well.

"What're you-"

"I can actually feel my back start to hurt seeing you work like that," Castiel cringed. "Here," he spoke, picking up Dean's notebook and placing it on the table. "You know you've got a desk in your room for a reason, right?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "But who  _actually_ does homework in their room?"

"Normal people," Castiel responded, before going to the dining room to finish his homework.

He could hear Dean laughing behind him.

* * *

Castiel woke up with sweat clinging to his skin and a gasp escaping from his lips. A shaky hand placed itself on his chest- directly above his racing heart, fingers digging into the material of his shirt. His ears were filled with the sound of rushing blood, and he swallowed before calming himself, placing his head in his hands.

His room was still dark- moonlight peeking from cracks in the blinds and bathing the center of the bedroom with a pale glow of sliver. Castiel gazed at the eerie luminescence before turning to his nightstand, reading the red numbers on his alarm clock.

It was five thirty-eight in the morning.

With an involuntary groan, Castiel placed his hands on his face, wiping it of the now-cold sweat that still lingered. There was no way he'd be able to go back to sleep. He could still hear the metallic bang- the sound of glass breaking and tires screeching.

Castiel shuddered, hands instinctively grasping onto his arms as he crossed them over his chest.

The dream seemed so real….

Licking his dry lips, Castiel removed his covers and climbed out of bed, making his way to the bathroom so he could take a long, hot shower.

The water scalded his back- burning his skin and cleaning him of his disturbing dream-induced imagery. He relented into it, dragging his nails across the skin of his arms and leaving a red trail behind. Castiel bit his lip as he fought to withstand the heat.

He needed to forget it. He needed to forget that dream. It wasn't real. Everything was fine. Everybody was okay. They were all alright, they were all alright, they were all alright-

_It's all your fault._

Castiel shivered, undeterred by the burning water. Those words haunted him. Even in his dreams.

His fingers reached for the glass knob, and he turned up the heat.

 _Don't think_ , he told himself.

_It's all your fault._

He could never run away.


	29. It's Coming

Wednesday was when things fell apart.

Castiel had been having the same nightmare every night since Monday. He blamed the lack of peaceful sleep over his paranoia. Ever since crossing paths with Alastair on Monday, Castiel had been extremely jumpy, just waiting for whatever it was Alastair had in store for him. He found that he couldn't focus on much, and even Dean's presence couldn't help him, anymore.

When Wednesday's event occurred, Castiel was almost shamefully relieved.

It was at the diner. Castiel was helping Jo and Ellen close up before Ellen would drop him off at his house. He had been taking out the trash to the bins behind the store when he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head, followed by blackness.

He woke up to Jo's voice.

"Holy fucking shit-"

A stream of curse words leaked from her mouth as she called over her mother, working to get Castiel standing on his feet.

"Castiel, wake up! Come on, open your eyes-"

Castiel could taste blood on his tongue, and suddenly a headache reverberated through his skull. He let out an involuntary groan of discomfort before peeling his eyes open.

"Oh, thank fucking God- are you okay? Can you stand?"

Castiel nodded, suddenly remembering how to control his legs as he propped himself up. Ellen's voice reached his ears next.

"What the hell happened here?" she asked. Another pair of hands gripped onto Castiel as he was led into the diner.

"He was attacked- I heard a car driving away and I came out to see what happened-"

Jo's voice faded away as Castiel focused on his breathing, trying to steady it and calm his adrenaline-fueled heart.

Lights invaded his vision, and a seat suddenly presented itself. Castiel fell down on it rather ungracefully.

"What's-"

"Who the hell wrote that?"

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed, and he moved his gaze towards Ellen and Jo. They were staring at his forehead.

"What?" he managed to growl out. He felt nauseous- like he was about to throw up.

Ellen and Jo exchanged looks, and Jo fumbled through her apron pockets, pulling out her phone and handing it to Castiel. He took it, and looked at his reflection in the black screen.

The word "faggot" was written large across his forehead in black permanent marker.

Along with the writing, a scrape and light bruise laid on his cheek, and his lip was split.

The urge to throw up suddenly increased.

"Oh,  _God_ ," Castiel murmured, hand flying to his forehead.

"Who did this?" Ellen asked, infuriated. Castiel just gawked at the floor, unable to look her in the eyes.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I didn't see them."

"Jo, did you see the car?"

"No. I only heard it drive away," the blond replied to her mother.

It was silent. Ellen sighed.

"Let's get you cleaned up, then," she urged, pulling Castiel up gently.

"I can do it," he spoke weakly, shrugging out of Ellen's grasp as he headed towards the restroom.

He could hear Ellen and Jo argue in hushed whispers behind him, and when he closed the door to the bathroom he fought to compose himself. With a heavy feeling in his chest, Castiel made his way to the mirror where he drank in his reflection.

 _Why would somebody do something like this?_  he thought to himself.

It had to be Alastair. It just had to be.

But why would he do this? What drove him to it?  _What was the point?_

Castiel could feel his eyes burn as he filled his hands with soap, turning the water to a warmer temperature before he began scrubbing off the marker from his skin. It took five minutes, and when he was finished there was still some blurred black ink left behind. It was the best he could do, for now.

Castiel washed up his lip, since it was bleeding rather heavily, and when he was finished he dabbed at it with a paper towel, trying to lessen the blood flow.

A pain pulsed at the base of Castiel's skull, and his fingers flew to the area of discomfort, pressing on a bump that rose from beneath his hair. He winced at the contact of his fingertips, and drew them away quickly.

 _I got out of this easy_ , he reminded himself.  _It could have been worse._

Taking in a deep breath, Castiel exited the restroom. He was greeted with Ellen and Jo's conversation. They didn't even notice him as he approached.

"I'm going to call the school and have this Alastair kid expe-"

"There's no use calling the school," Castiel interrupted, making both Ellen and Jo jump with shock.

"Why not?" Jo asked. "We  _know_ it's Alastair!"

"The school cannot do anything about off-campus assaults. Besides, I did not see who did it. It could have been anyone."

"Then we'll phone the police," Jo replied.

"And tell them what? That I was attacked by someone I didn't see? What could they do? Call my father and explain to him that I got the word "faggot" written across my forehead?" Castiel retorted.

Jo's eyebrows furrowed. "Cas, your dad would want to know what happened."

Castiel laughed humorlessly, allowing himself to sit down on a booth seat, for his legs were getting rather shaky. "You do not know my father. It would be best if he did not find out."

All was silent.

"Well, I reckon the only thing we can do now is go home and get some sleep. Castiel, honey, are you feeling alright?" Ellen asked.

Castiel nodded. "I'm fine."

"Alright, then." Ellen reached into her pocket, grabbing the car keys and tossing them to Jo. "Start up the car- I'll be right there."

Jo and Castiel walked side by side to Ellen's car, and once they were sitting inside Castiel spoke up.

"Don't tell the others, please," he whispered, fiddling with the hem of his apron. He could feel Jo's gaze bore into him.

"What about Dean?" she asked, voice concerned. "Aren't you going to tell him?"

Castiel shook his head. "No. Especially not Dean. I do not want to worry anybody about this," he told her.

"Cas… do you… do you think Alastair  _knows_?" Jo asked.

Castiel's heart kicked in his chest, and he could feel vomit rise up in his throat.

"How could he have found out?" he asked, panicking.

Jo shrugged helplessly. "I don't know- did you guys do anything at school? Anything that could make him suspicious?"

Shit.  _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

The parking lot.

Castiel's mouth hung open, and he felt cold. He ruined it. Alastair knew, and now he'd tell everybody. They'd go after Dean. He did this-  _all because he couldn't fuckng control himself._ Everything was about to fall apart right when Castiel got it standing.

"Cas? Cas, what is it?"

He swallowed back a lump in his throat. "The parking lot. We kissed in the parking lot- just for a second," he added when Jo's jaw dropped. "I thought it was empty… I- I didn't  _see_ -"

"You didn't," Jo breathed out, shocked. When Castiel shrunk into himself some more, Jo's eyes widened. " _Cas_ ," the blond exclaimed, unable to think of what to say.

"I know," he murmured, burying his face in his hands. " _Fuck_ ," he cursed.

It was silent. Jo took a deep breath.

"It's fine- everything is okay," she assured her friend, placing a hesitant hand on his back.

Castiel's head jerked out of his palms, and he looked at Jo incredulously. "How on Earth is everything alright? Alastair  _knows_ -"

"We don't know that for sure. It could have been anyone. And, let's be honest, Alastair spews a bunch of crap about you all the time. If you and Dean could just be careful at school from now on, the whole thing will blow away. People will think it's a rumor."

Castiel breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself. He could feel his anxiety kick in. Jo was right. He could fix this, and nobody would find out.

"I do not want to drag Dean into this," Castiel murmured.

Jo's gaze hardened. "This is Dean's business just as much as yours."

Swallowing back bile, Castiel replied. "No- I brought this on him. I'm the one who slipped up-  _I_ kissed  _him_ when I knew we could have been caught. It was my own recklessness, and I do not want him to get hurt because of it."

Jo looked at Castiel sympathetically, now, and she sighed before straightening up in her seat, pulling her hand away and placing it in her lap. "You can't keep secrets from him, Castiel."

"Yes, I can."

Silence. "He's going to find out. And I think it would be better if he heard it from you rather than from some ass at school. I'm not going to tell him anything- I'll respect that. But you need to let him know, or things will just get worse."

Castiel was devastated, and he curled in on himself, trying to remember to breathe. "Why does this have to happen?" he asked- to nobody, really.

Jo didn't have an answer to that.

* * *

It was well past eleven when Castiel got home. The first thing he did was text Dean.

_Castiel: Are you awake?_

A minute later, he got a reply.

_Dean: Yeah, wats up?_

Castiel took a deep breath, fingers hesitating at the buttons of his phone. He shouldn't do it. He couldn't tell him. It would only worry Dean- it would hurt him.

_Castiel: Do you think you could stop by? At the park in my neighborhood._

The reply was instant, this time.

_Dean: Is everything ok?_

Castiel bit his lip, trying not to take back everything he said.

_Castiel: I just need to tell you something. I do not think it can wait._

_Dean: I'll be there in 5 mins._

Castiel was sitting on a bench at the park. The moon hid behind the branches of the trees, providing little illumination along with the flickering streetlights. It wasn't much later when Castiel heard the hum of the Impala.

He pulled his jacket closer to himself, his heart jumping to his throat and his stomach flipping nauseatingly.

The sound of a door opening and closing with a creak and pop broke the silent night. Footsteps followed.

"Cas?"

Castiel drew his lips into a line before looking up, seeing Dean standing in front of him. He was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. His hair was messy. He had been asleep.

A curse word slipped from the blond's lips. Castiel cringed.

"Shit, what the fuck happened to you?" Dean asked, crouching in front of Castiel automatically and placing fingers on his chin, turning his face gently to examine it. Castiel grew stiff.

He tried to answer. His voice caught in his throat.

"Cas? Who the hell did this?" Dean questioned, voice shaky.

Castiel licked his lips, the metallic tang of blood meeting him. It was bleeding less, but it hadn't scabbed over, yet.

"I'm not quite sure," he whispered, his voice coming out pathetically weak.

Dean's eyes searched Castiel's. His eyebrows were furrowed with concern and worry. "When did this happen?" he spoke, voice growing angry.

Castiel swallowed down his nausea. "About an hour ago- outside the diner."

Dean's jaw tightened and he pulled his hand away to wipe it over his mouth. He looked away from Castiel for a moment before speaking. "Tell me what happened."

So Castiel did. It was with great hesitance that he told Dean about what had been written across his forehead, and how he believed somebody had spotted them. He told him about his encounter with Alastair, as well. Dean looked about ready to commit genocide by the time Castiel was done.

"I'm so sorry- it's my fault, I wasn't care-"

"It was Alastair," Dean interrupted. "That fucking sonofabitch just won't give up," Dean cursed, standing up and placing a hand on his forehead as he tried to calm himself. Castiel stood.

"I shouldn't have told you," he murmured, looking at Dean gravely.

Dean looked surprised. "What the hell do you mean?"

" _Listen to yourself_ , Dean! I'm stressing you out- I brought you out here in the middle of the night and I just pushed all this on you and now you're-"

"This has just as much to do with me as it has to do with you," Dean interrupted, again. "I mean,  _fuck_ , Cas, look at you! What he did isn't just on you, it's on me, too!"

Castiel drew his lips into a line. Everything was heavily silent, and the two teens just gazed expectantly at one another. "I'm sorry," Castiel finally uttered. Dean's shoulders dropped, and he gave Castiel a once over.

Finally, Dean sighed before grabbing Castiel's arm and pulling him into a hug. "Stop saying that, you dumbass," Dean murmured into Castiel's neck. Castiel exhaled slowly, allowing himself to hug Dean back and relax in his arms. After a few seconds, Dean pulled away, cupping Castiel's cheek. "God, I'm so glad you're okay," he breathed out, resting his forehead against Castiel's.

Castiel smiled weakly, closing his eyes tight when he felt tears gather in them. It was strange to have so many people care so much for his wellbeing. It was overwhelming. Castiel couldn't help but let his heart swell with all the strange feelings the new people in his life brought him. He had no idea what to do with all the kindness he received. His throat tightened with tears, and he took in a quivering breath to control it.

Dean's lips planted a kiss onto Castiel's forehead, and then he pulled away. "Thank you," he murmured, looking into Castiel's eyes. Castiel tilted his head, confused. "For telling me," Dean clarified. Castiel nodded and pulled Dean back to him, not sure what to say.

They remained like that for a moment.

Suddenly, Dean laughed, shakily.

Castiel pulled away slightly to look at him. "What is it?"

Dean shook his head, smiling. "I gotta be honest, while I was driving here I thought you were gonna break up with me, or something," Dean explained. "This isn't much better, but I kinda feel relieved."

Castiel hugged Dean close, resting his forehead in the crook of Dean's neck. "I wouldn't do that," he murmured, squeezing Dean reassuringly. Dean hugged him back, fingers digging into Castiel's sweater.

It was silent, again.

"It's late. I'll take you home."

Castiel nodded, again, letting Dean lead him to his car and into the passenger seat. They drove a while longer than normal. Dean took a long route to give Castiel time to calm down. When they finally arrived at his cold, brick house, Dean spoke up.

"You'll be fine?" he asked, looking at Castiel, worriedly. Castiel nodded, mustering up his strength as he gave Dean a reassuring smile.

"Yes. I'm sorry to have dragged you out of bed," Castiel apologized.

"I wasn't asleep," Dean replied. It was a lie. They both knew that.

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah. See you."

* * *

_Castiel woke up on a road. A grey sky met his vision, cloudless and cold. Smoke rose from both sides of him, and he fought to remember what happened._

_He got up, hands bloodied and scraped, protesting as he pressed them against the gravel to ease his weakened legs to stand._

_There were two cars- or, what was left of two cars. They had been completely smashed, glass broken and frame bent beyond repair. So much smoke. Everything was quiet. Death was in the air._

_His throat went dry. Castiel recognized the car to his right._

_The Impala._

_Breathing advancing, Castiel scrambled to the car, well aware that his hands were bleeding immensely, now, and his clothes were ripped. Everything hurt, but he pulled at the driver's door nonetheless._

_What he saw inside made him want to throw up._

_Dean was in the driver's seat- his head bloody and bashed. Sam was beside him and equally as banged up, green eyes fixated on Castiel. They didn't move. They didn't breathe._

_Castiel reached inside, his body shaking uncontrollably. "Sam- Dean, oh my God. Please, wake up-_ fuck- _wake up!" Castiel begged, trying to pull off their seat belts as he fumbled with the strap. He needed to get them out. He had to get them out_ now. _"Sam, Dean, please! Get out, you need to get out!"_

_It was no use. They were cold and dead. They were gone._

_Tears running down his face, Castiel pulled at his friend's bodies, sobbing. "Please, please- no, no this can't be happening!" Castiel cried out, retreating from the car and grabbing fistfuls of his hair as he lost balance and fell to his knees, broken glass cutting through denim and flesh._

_He hunched over, tightening his hold and murmuring nonstop._

" _This is a dream, this is a dream, this is a dream."_

_Nothing._

" _Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up."_

_He was still there._

_Opening his eyes once more, Castiel swallowed back his sobs and got up onto his shaky legs, stumbling away from the wrecked Impala. Away from his dead friends._

" _This is a dream," he kept telling himself._

_He backed away._

" _This is just a dream."_

_His back met with metal._

_He turned around, and what he saw made him cry out in terror._

_Through a cracked and broken windshield, his mother and father sat in a car- skin stained red with blood and pale with death, glassy eyes gazing straight at Castiel. His mother's body draped over the steering wheel, glass decorating her blood-darkened hair. His father gazed at him, his empty eyes long gone._

_There were people in the backseat, and when Castiel looked he nearly collapsed to the ground once more._

_Anna and Gabriel._

_Castiel rushed to the side door, trying to pull open the doors but unable to. They were locked shut. He banged at the glass, trying to get in. It cracked and cut his fists, but he kept pounding. He was the only source of noise in this terrible, silent nightmare._

" _Please! Let me in! Let me help you,_ please!"

_Anna and Gabriel laid still._

"Please!  _Let me in, let me in, let me in!"_

_His hands dragged against the glass, smearing blood onto the fractured material as his forehead rested against it, sobs racking from his chest and shaking his tiny frame._

_Why was this happening? What was going on? This had to be a dream. It had to, it had to, it had to._

_Pulling himself away from the car, Castiel started walking. Help. He needed to find help._

" _Please!" he called out. "Somebody help! Somebody- please!"_

_His voice echoed into nothingness._

_In the middle of the wreckage, he heard sobbing._

_What he saw was what he least expected._

_Alastair was crouched down, holding the body of his older brother. His dead mother laid next to him, a noose around her throat._

" _Alastair," Castiel breathed out, reaching forward. Castiel found that he was still crying, as well. His voice was thick with tears."Alastair, let me help."_

_Suddenly, Alastair's head shot up, and he gazed at Castiel with wet, accusing eyes._

" _This is all your fault," he hissed._

_Castiel's eyes widened, and he shook his head._

" _You killed them."_

_Castiel kept shaking his head. He was crying harder, now._

" _You killed all of them."_

_Castiel looked around. The sky was blood red. His friends laid about him, now. Jo, Charlie, Chuck, Adam, Ash- all of them. They all laid dead and bloody, their lifeless eyes gazing at Castiel as if to ask-_

_Why?_

_Why do you get to live?_

_Why did you do this to us?_

" _It's not my fault," Castiel choked out._

_Alastair's hands paled as his grip tightened on his brother._

" _You killed them_ all _."_

_Castiel couldn't breathe. "I'm sorry," he cried._

" _It's all your fault."_

_Castiel fell to the floor, burying his head in his hands. He sat among his dead friends and family._

" _It's all your fault."_

_I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry!_

" _It's all your fault."_

* * *

Castiel woke up with a gasp.

It was just a dream.

It was just the dream.

Hands pressed into his chest as Castiel fought to breathe.

* * *

"You sure you're alright?" Dean asked for the billionth time that morning. Castiel sighed.

" _Yes,_  I am. Do not worry," Castiel assured him as they walked through the double doors of school.

Dean quieted himself, but he kept a wary eye on his friend. He stuck close by him all throughout homeroom, and walked him to his first period.

"Dean," Castiel spoke once they reached his first period. Dean's arm was pressed against Castiel's, his face pensive. As soon as Castiel spoke, he diverted his attention completely to the boy at his side.

"Yeah?"

"You're worrying," he pointed out.

Dean was flustered, but he backed away with an air of dignity. "Damn right, I am," he mumbled.

Castiel couldn't help but laugh. "I'll be okay," he promised. "They can't do anything to me in school," he reminded the blond.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know. Just... be careful, okay?"

Castiel smiled. "I will."

Dean returned the gesture, finally relaxing. "Okay. I'll see you later."

"Yes."

Dean lingered, and Castiel gave him a warning look as people's gazes diverted to them. With a stiff jaw, Dean forced a smile before patting Castiel's shoulder and walking off.

When Castiel walked into his classroom, it went eerily silent. Then, all at once, people started whispering. Castiel's heart fluttered erratically within him as he made his way to his seat by Chuck.

"Cas," Chuck gasped out. "Dude, are you okay? What happened to you?" he asked, gazing specifically at the purplish bruise that marked Castiel's cheek.

Castiel offered up a smile. "Alastair, I think."

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "You  _think_?"

Shrugging helplessly, Castiel reduced his voice to a low mumble when the teacher walked in. "I did not see who did it. I'll tell you at lunch," he promised.

Looking worried, and about to open his mouth to speak again, Chuck drew back when the teacher sent him a look.

"Quiet down, now," Ms. Ackerman ordered the students. The whispering ceased.

Class went accordingly, with a few looks directed at Castiel from turned heads in the classroom. He tried to ignore it, averting his gaze to the teacher and trying so hard not to look at Chuck's questioning features. He knew he'd have to tell his friends. He'd end up having to drag them into this, as well.

But it was the look that Chuck gave him. It was the way he wanted to reach out. It was the comfort that emanated from Jo and Ellen last night. Castiel knew now that he had nothing to fear. This was friendship. For the first time in his life, Castiel finally understood.

He knew, now, that the quiet period wouldn't last any longer.

Things needed to start changing. And Castiel would not have to do it alone.

* * *

It was when he was walking to his next class when Castiel heard the first spout of rumors. He had stopped by his locker to exchange his books when he caught Dean's name mixed into a hushed conversation.

"-can't believe he's  _gay_ ," a girl's voice whispered.

"But he wasn't, before. Remember Lisa?" another voice inquired.

"Lisa was probably a cover," the original voice spoke under her breath.

"Don't be stupid, Castiel turned him gay. I mean, obviously."

Throat going dry, Castiel tried to find the source of the gossip. He could only barely pick it up among the chatter of the hallway and the bustling of students, but his eyes finally landed on two girls a few lockers down from him, too busy with their conversation and book depositing to notice that the object of their gossiping was only a couple feet away.

"It's so annoying. There are no hot guys in this school, and once we get one the  _freak_  turns him gay."

"I know right?" the other girl enthusiastically replied. "Like, go get one of the ugly guys and leave the cute ones to us."

Castiel decided he'd heard enough, and shut his locker rather forcefully, mistakenly garnering the attention of the gossipers. Their whispers halted, and wide eyes fixed themselves on Castiel. He gazed at them for a moment before walking away, heart hammering and fists clenched. The excited whispers continued among them, followed by laughs. Castiel's jaw clenched, and he had to calm himself upon entering his Chemistry class, forcing on a smile for Charlie when he saw her.

Charlie was not stupid.

"What's wrong?" she asked as Castiel sat next to her.

He took out his binder, placing it on his desk and pulling out last night's homework. "Well, I got attacked last night-"

"I already knew that," she replied, looking at Castiel with even more concern. He raised a questioning eyebrow, and Charlie shrugged. "Word goes around fast, here. It's not a very big school," the redhead explained. "I mean, what happened, just now? You're practically red."

Castiel exhaled, relieving the tension in his shoulders. "It's a lot to explain," he countered. "I'm alright, though. I promise."

Charlie observed her friend for a long moment before nodding, pulling out her own homework. "I think I did number seventeen wrong. What did you get?"

* * *

By lunchtime, Castiel was extremely nervous. He walked with Charlie and Ash to the lunchroom as he normally did, trying to keep up with their conversation. When he saw Dean, he felt jealousy and anger rage through him as he thought of what the girls had said in the hallway, their stupid accusations and rumors echoing in his head. So, with an almost stubborn fashion to it, Castiel sat down next to Dean in Ash's usual seat, pressing their legs tight together (although nobody at the table could see that bit). Ash raised an eyebrow, but took Castiel's old seat without question. Licking his lips, Castiel folded his arms over the table, letting his elbow graze Dean's own as he worked at avoiding the others' eyes, sliding off his backpack and pulling out his lunch.

Nobody commented on the seat change, since the group tended to switch around, some days, and they all picked up on some idle conversation, all waiting for Castiel to go on with explaining what had happened to him, their eyes shifting to him every few moments.

Dean's elbow lightly bumped Castiel, a small gesture to gather his attention. Castiel looked over at him, suddenly startled with their close proximity. He tried so hard not to look at Dean's lips."You okay?" Dean asked in a low whisper.

Castiel nodded, feeling rather foolish, now, as he scooted away from Dean. Jo's warning from last night chastised him. "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry."

Dean remained silent, observing Castiel carefully. "Tell me later?" he inquired.

Unable to help but smile slightly, Castiel nodded again. Dean rested his foot against Castiel's.

After a few more minutes of forced conversation, Chuck gazed at Castiel expectantly. When Castiel caught his eyes, the brunette's shoulders dropped. "Cas?" he asked, politely. The whole table gazed at the blue eyed boy, now.

He didn't know how to start.

So Jo did it for him.

"It was at the diner," she spoke, confirming the rumors they had heard. "Alastair-"

Castiel sighed. "We're not sure if it was Alastair," he corrected. "I didn't see who did it."

Adam looked confused, along with most of the teens that listened carefully to Castiel's words. "Well, who else could it be?" he asked.

"Anybody. I have quite a few people who dislike me, in case you all haven't noticed," he responded quite bitterly. He quickly composed himself before speaking again. "It was probably a friend of Alastair. I'm sure that if it was Alastair, he'd have let me know of it, by now."

"So Gordon?" Dean asked, looking shocked. It wasn't very long ago when Dean was a part of Alastair's friend group. He probably depicted Gordon as the wrong person to have done this. Castiel could agree, honestly. It didn't seem like Gordon, but what other options did they have?

Castiel shrugged. "I did get him suspended and off the track team, along with Alastair. I have no doubt that he'd enjoy some revenge."

"Holy shit," Chuck breathed out. "This is fucking ridiculous- I feel like we're in a fucking gang movie. Like, what the hell?"

"Honestly, this is insane," Charlie agreed. "Why would somebody do stuff like this?"

Castiel shrugged once again. "I do not know," he answered, uselessly. The group let out a consecutive sigh.

"Dude, we gotta upgrade your security," Ash spoke. "Like, a 24/7 bodyguard or something."

Castiel chuckled. "That would be nice."

All at once, the table relaxed. Then Adam spoke.

"We should teach those bastards a lesson."

Excitement rose.

"A prank?" Ash asked, deviously. He reminded Castiel of Gabriel.

"Exactly. Get even," Charlie replied.

Castiel shook his head. "I do not think that would be-"

"Come on, Cas," Ash interrupted. "We can't just let those jackasses get away with something like this."

"Stooping down to their level will not do us a favor," Jo chided. Ash rolled his eyes. "It'll only push them to strike back harder. It'll be a neverending cycle."

"I agree with Jo on this one," Dean spoke up. "We'll handle this another way."

The table grew silent, mind complaints mumbled by Charlie and Ash. He could catch some of their conversation about "harmless stink bombs". Despite it all, Castiel found himself laughing. The group was shocked, and they gazed at Castiel in a rather confused way.

Castiel shook his head as his giggles subsided. "Thank you, everyone," he spoke, beaming at his friends. They all remained baffled. "For being here," he clarified with a smile.

Ash smiled and Adam spoke. "Anytime, buddy," he assured.

Yes. Anytime. That sounded nice.


	30. Adjust

Castiel's anxiety had begun to pick up.

There wasn't an exact cause, really. It was just the sort of thing that happened, every now and then. This time it was brought on by multiple things.

Mostly, Castiel had been thinking about his mother. He wondered if she would be proud of him- if she would approve of the choices he was making. Thinking about her made him depressed, and he felt as if he were drowning in something bigger than he was- something he'd never be able to escape from.

On top of resurfacing thoughts of his mother, Castiel constantly worried over his siblings. He hadn't talked to them in almost two years, now. All week he would find himself sitting in front of the family computer, fingers on the keyboard where they'd hover as he gazed at a blank screen of emails he couldn't bring himself to type.

Would they even want to speak to him?

It had been so long… when their mother first died, Anna and Gabriel had instinctively taken their father's side in blaming Castiel. He was the last authoritative figure they had, and his malice had seeped into their minds and twisted their views. Castiel didn't blame them, honestly. They were confused and grieving. They didn't even realize what they were doing until they grew older and found the bruises on Castiel's skin. Then the name calling stopped, and the fingers pointed at Castiel averted to his father.

That was a dangerous time in the Novak household.

Anna and Gabriel ended up leaving, going off to live with a relative, and then in New York, where they would attend college. They tried to bring Castiel along, but the strong protests and threats from their father had eventually won. So Castiel was stuck in Lawrence, alone and susceptible to his father's never ending rage.

Castiel knew that Anna and Gabriel wanted the best for him, in the end. They loved him dearly, although their father blinded them from that realization for years. But Castiel had told them their health was more important. Their house wasn't safe, anymore. And there was no way Castiel would be able to leave.

And that's how he ended up alone with his father- scared every waking minute as he waited for the next blow. Anna and Gabriel would email Castiel every now and then when they left. But Castiel didn't want them worrying and getting attached. He didn't want to risk them coming back. So he slowly pushed them away, answering with shorter and shorter responses until he didn't reply back, at all. Soon, his siblings gave up.

Castiel would ruin everything if he wrote to them, now.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Castiel's hands withdrew from the computer and placed themselves on his face. He took a shaky breath.

So caught up in his thoughts, Castiel didn't hear footsteps approach the computer room.

"What are you doing?" a deep voice inquired, shocking Castiel so horribly that the child jumped in his seat, skin going cold. He turned to face his father.

"Dad-"

"You did not ask permission to use the computer," Mr. Novak spoke dangerously, walking towards Castiel. He placed a hand on the back of the chair the teen was seated at.

"Y-you weren't home," Castiel protested, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

His father hummed, peering at the computer screen. "And what were you doing on the computer?"

"I was just-"

"Castiel. Turn it off," his father hissed threateningly.

Mouth going dry, Castiel nodded, trembling fingers reaching over to switch the desktop off. As soon as he stood up, his father spoke.

"What were you typing to Anael?" he asked, having seen the name on the screen.

Castiel's eyes went wide as he faced the tall man. He shook his head. "N-nothing. I wasn't going to send anything. I- I was going to turn off-"

A pain shot up Castiel's arm as his father gripped it- fingers wound tight enough to leave bruises. Castiel caught his gasp in his throat, not daring to let it escape. He gazed into his father's dark stare, mouth agape with fear. His father's eyes were like fire- burning into Castiel with severity he would deem impossible.

"If I catch you trying to communicate with either Gabriel or Anael, then you are in for massive trouble, do you hear me?" his father whispered, hand tightening. When Castiel didn't automatically respond, his father shook his arm. " _Do you hear me?_ "

"Yes! Yes, sir," Castiel spoke, nodding frantically. "I promise- I won't."

That was the moment Castiel's phone decided to ring. His eyes tore away from his father and to the mobile device lighting up on the desk. Dean's name marked the screen. His father's hold loosened and Castiel pried himself away to answer it.

"Dean," Castiel gasped out, trying to mask his fear.

"Hey, man. I'm outside. You ready?" Dean spoke. Castiel could hear him fiddle with the music in his car.

"Yes. I'll be out in a moment."

Before Dean could respond, Castiel hung up.

"I- I need to leave, now," Castiel spoke softly, standing still in his father's presence so as not to agitate him further.

"And where do you think you're going?" the man asked, eyes narrowed. Castiel's throat went dry.

"I-I'm going bowling. With my friends. I- I told you a few days ago. You said I coul-"

Before he could finish, Castiel's father was walking out the room.

"Be home by ten," he spoke dismissively as his footsteps echoed through the halls.

"Yes, sir," Castiel whispered. When he heard the door to his father's office close, Castiel allowed himself to collapse onto his chair as he tried to calm his racing heart. Once he had composed himself, Castiel went up to his room to gather his coat and wallet, then made his way downstairs and out the front door.

The cool air embraced Castiel, clearing away the tension that fogged his mind almost instantly. He smiled as he saw Dean through the windshield. Dean returned the gesture, beckoning Castiel forward impatiently. The dark-haired teen slid into the passenger's seat, and Dean told him to buckle up before he drove off.

"We're so late," Dean spoke with a deep laugh that had Castiel smiling, again. "The others are gonna kill us." Dean shook his head. "Do you mind textin' Jo? Tell her to save us a spot- I think we'll be there  _in_ ," Dean calculated mentally, "about thirteen minutes.

Castiel nodded, typing out the text. "There's no need to rush," he advised the blond. "We're not terribly late."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I was gonna show up at your place by six-thirty, but I had to take Sam to Andy's. Didn't think it'd take that long," he admitted with a sheepish shrug.

Led Zeppelin was playing at a hushed volume on the cassette player, and Castiel smiled as he raised the volume slightly, just enough to hear the music better. The music served to relax him from his father's actions, and he practically melted into his seat as he listened to Dean speak over the instruments.

"We still up for the park after bowling?" Dean suddenly asked. "I thought we could hike through the forest, y'know? There's this one trail that leads to this sandy sort of area, right by the river. Sam and I found it-"

Castiel's smile instantly fell when he remembered their plans. Dean and Cas had agreed to go to the park for a bit after bowling, since Castiel opted out of the sleepover part of tonight's festivities. Now he realized they wouldn't have time to do that.

"Dean," Castiel spoke, interrupting the blond. "I can't, tonight," he spoke, his heart sinking when Dean seemed to deflate with disappointment.

"Why not?" he asked, unable to help it. "You were fine with it, earlier."

Castiel frowned ruefully. "My father wants me home by ten."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "That's awful early," he mumbled as he focused on the road. Taking a deep breath, Dean nodded. "Yeah, okay, that's fine," he assured with a smile. Castiel bit his lip, placing fingers on the crook of Dean's elbow. It caught the blonde's attention.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he apologized. Dean's eyes softened, and he took the wheel with his other hand, offering up his right to Castiel.

Castiel took it, lacing their fingers together. Dean brought their hands up to his lips and placed a small kiss on the back of Castiel's. "It's fine," he murmured. "We're gonna have fun, tonight," he promised with a smile. This one was brighter.

Castiel nodded, nervous. The group had invited Meg along with them, after Jo got the okay from Dean. The blond didn't seem to mind- he knew how important Meg was to Castiel. The dark-haired teen had explained all that she had done for him, and Dean slowly understood the fault in his assumptions about the girl. He promised Castiel that he wouldn't get in between them. Meg was kind. She was good for Cas.

Meg knew that Cas was going out with Dean. He had told her as soon as it happened, and she expressed her happiness for him. Their friendship had mended over the past few months, and things finally seemed to ease into normality between them. Meg had moved on, and Castiel promised himself never to hurt her, again- or let anybody else do so, for that matter.

Dean and Cas had been avidly discussing when they'd tell the group about their relationship. They needed to know, soon. Hell, they were the closest friends Dean and Cas had. In the few months they all knew each other, they made enough memories to last a lifetime. Cas and Dean knew it'd be unfair to keep secrets from them.

The thing was, it just never felt like the right moment to tell them. When the opportunity presented itself, they'd know it.

Dean let go of Castiel's hand as he pulled into the bowling alley parking lot. After parking, the two teens rushed into the building, renting their shoes and scouting out their friends so they could help pay for the bowling lane they'd be using.

The others greeted Dean and Cas enthusiastically, throwing in a few teasing jabs about being late. Pretty soon they were settled at their table, Chuck working the computer as they divided their teams. There were eight of them, so it was the perfect number. Ash, Castiel, Charlie, and Meg were on one team, and Jo, Dean, Adam, and Chuck were on the other.

Castiel was excited. He used to bowl at this bowling alley all the time with his church group, and his family. It had been a while, but Castiel remembered being quite skilled. He wondered if his old talents would shine through, tonight.

As he went to pick out a bowling ball, Dean brushed against him.

"I'm so gonna kick your ass, Cas," Dean teased, bumping their shoulders together as he chose a red bowling ball, weighing it in his hands.

Castiel hummed thoughtfully. "Of course you are," he assured, giving Dean's arm a pat as he smiled, grabbing a green ball and making his way to his team, Dean trailing behind.

"You got some bowling skills I don't know about?" Dean asked, falling in stride with Castiel. He was smiling, and Castiel could feel the electricity between them, although Dean kept a good space. He had his bowling ball tucked under his arm, while Castiel cradled his own against his chest.

Castiel had to hide his smirk. "No- none at all," he lied, smiling. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"I'll go easy on you, then," he promised with a wink, making his way to Chuck. Castiel had to hold back his laughter.

Jo went up first, going against Charlie. Charlie got a spare, while Jo got seven pins down. Jo made a show of fake-fighting with Charlie, the girls laughing as they made their way back to their tables. Dean chastised the blonde, asking Charlie if she'd switch. Jo punched his arm playfully in return, and Dean laughed, mouthing 'help me' at Castiel.

Next up was Ash and Adam. Adam ended up getting more down, having knocked over eight pins while Ash got seven. Dean and Cas went up next, and Castiel watched as Dean got a split. The blond played it cool, though, knocking over one of the pins and earning a woop from his team. Then Castiel went, aiming before tossing his ball and knocking all the pins over, earning a strike.

The teens went silent.

Then Castiel's team cheered, and Castiel walked back to his table, smiling smugly at a jaw-dropped Dean.

"You said-" Dean sputtered.

"Thank you for going easy on me," Castiel said with a wink before sitting by Charlie, earning a massive hug from the redhead.

Meg and Chuck went against one another, Meg winning by two pins. The game went on, and Castiel continued to get spares and strikes, stacking up points for his team. Dean had learned his lesson, and was now undeterred on his goal to beat Castiel. He earned just as many strikes and spares, and their teams' points were slowly starting to equalize. The teens all seemed to get a hang of the game, and soon everyone got at least a spare.

Empty pizza plates and coke cups littered their tables as time went by, and after an hour their game ended, Castiel's team the winner. They paid for another game, as requested by the losing team, and then they were at it, again.

After another long hour, Dean's team won (by a small margin), and the group loitered at their tables for as long as they could before they'd get kicked out, planning a final game for another weekend- one to end it all and declare a champion. They ordered some more food and detailed their plan as they ate.

Castiel and Meg sat side by side, and Castiel took the time to catch up with her. Meg told him of her school, grades, and friends. It seemed she was content with how things were in her life, and that made Castiel feel incredibly happy. Meg explained that everything was going quite well for her- her oldest brother had visited, and he even stayed the night at their dad's house. She told Castiel that they had stayed up all night watching scary movies and catching up with one another. He smiled as he listened to his friend. It felt like old times.

Soon, the hour ticked to nine, and Castiel felt his good mood slip away at the thought of returning to his father. It was with great reluctance that Castiel bid his friends goodnight, promising them he'd do the sleepover another time when they all complained.

After returning their bowling shoes and sanitizing their hands, Castiel and Dean made their way to the Impala, Dean laughing about the night's antics.

"No- but seriously- where'd you learn to play?" Dean asked, smiling with disbelief as they both settled into leather seats.

Castiel shrugged, smiling. "I went bowling a lot when I was little. Honestly, I didn't think I'd retain my ability to play. It's been quite a while," Castiel admitted.

Dean chuckled, starting up the car. "Well, you fooled me. Next time you're on my team," Dean spoke, pulling out of the parking lot.

"You wish," Castiel teased, grabbing Dean's hand when the blond offered it.

Dean drove for a long time, deciding to take the long route since they had some time. It was mostly silent in the car, mind the music that filled the air with words they didn't speak. Castiel was getting drowsy in his seat, and he nodded off to the feel of Dean's thumb rubbing slow circles onto the back of his hand.

He had begun to dream of red skies and glass when a voice stirred him to consciousness.

"Cas. Cas, you're home," Dean spoke in a hushed tone, jostling the teen's shoulder.

Castiel blinked awake, surprised with the change in scenery. The clock on Dean's car announced the time as nine fifty. He arrived early. His house stood before him, cold and waiting. The teen suppressed a shudder.

"Thank you," Castiel spoke with a smile, letting go of the blonde's hand reluctantly. Dean nodded. It was silent.

"Hey, are you free on Sunday?" Dean asked, looking at Castiel in a hopeful way.

Castiel nodded. "I suppose so, yes."

Dean smiled. "Would you want to come over? Sam is having Andy over for a study session. I was thinking it could be a group thing," Dean explained. Castiel smiled.

"I'll run it over with my father," he promised. Dean nodded.

"Alright," he agreed. When Castiel unbuckled his seat belt, Dean caught his wrist gently. "Hey, are you going to bed, yet?" 

Castiel tilted his head. "I was going to read for a bit, I think."

Dean smiled, playfully. "Could I text you, then?"

Castiel's heart did a flop in his chest, and he smiled back. "Yes," he replied. When Dean's smile brightened, Castiel raised a finger. "Wait until you get home," he warned.

Dean laughed. "Yessir," he responded, freeing Castiel's wrist. "I'll talk to you in a bit."

"Yes, you will," Castiel agreed with a smile, making his way out the car and giving a wave.

Dean waved back before pulling out and driving away.

When Castiel made it inside, his father was in the living room, drinking a bottle of wine as he mulled over papers. He didn't even look at Castiel as he spoke.

"Go to bed. Now," he ordered.

Castiel had enough sense not to argue as he bounded up the stairs and to his bedroom. He quickly changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth, sliding into his bed and turning the lights off in case his father decided to pay a visit. After getting comfortable, Castiel switched his bedside lamp on, and pulled out a book from his nightstand. He didn't even realize it was  _Gulliver's Travels_ until the book was in his hands and he was settled snug into his bed. He got to reading, having seven pages down before his phone buzzed multiple times. When he checked his cellphone, he found text messages.

_Dean: Hey_

_Dean: Im not txting and driving, btw_

_Dean: Definitely not_

Castiel smiled.

_Castiel: You'd better not be._

After a moment of waiting, Castiel received a picture of Dean's bedroom.

_Dean: Proof. What're you reading?_

Castiel grinned, thumb skimming over the cover of his book. He texted a reply.

_Castiel: Just this book. Gulliver's Travels or something of that sort. It's actually quite interesting._

_Dean: Eh, sounds lame. But I'll take ur word for it._

Before Castiel could respond, Dean sent another text.

_Dean: Which part are you on?_

He couldn't help but laugh.

_Castiel: The first part._

_Dean: the third part's my favorite_

_Castiel: Lame book, huh?_

_Dean: Shut up_

_Dean: I wish you were here_

Castiel felt his breath catch, and he tried to suppress his smile, rolling onto his side on his bed. Butterflies fluttered about in his stomach, and Castiel had to calm himself before he replied.

_Castiel: So do I._

His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He wanted to say something more, but he wasn't sure what.

_Dean: You never told me what was bothering you. At the cafeteria._

Castiel felt his heart stop. By the way Dean had carefully typed the message, Castiel could tell he wouldn't let the topic drop.

_Castiel: I'll tell you on Sunday._

It was silent for a moment.

_Dean: Alright. U sure u dont need a ride, tomorrow?_

_Castiel: I'm sure. Ash is taking me._

_Dean: Did u ask ur dad about Sunday?_

Castiel hesitated.

_Castiel: I will, tomorrow. He was working when I got home._

Dean didn't respond right away, so Castiel read his book. He figured Dean was probably readying himself for bed. He went through two pages before Dean responded.

_Dean: Ok, sounds good. Im gonna get some sleep. Night, Cas_

_Castiel: Goodnight, Dean._

He read his book for a silent hour, invested in the images it brought him. It was adventurous stories like these that Castiel loved to read when his mind felt frazzled. They helped him relax, and they brought him to a world where his problems were virtually nonexistent- merely a speck in the large universe of fables and adventures and tales.

The sound of his father's footsteps retreating to his room drew Castiel away from his book, and he listened as the taps withered away, followed by the shutting of a door. Placing his book page-down on his chest, Castiel gazed at the map hung on his wall. It was illuminated by the warm glow of his lamp, yellowing the different hues that colored the paper.

Castiel smiled as he marked his book, placing it on his nightstand and switching off the lamp that sat there. One day, he'd have his own adventure.

He would soon leave this place behind, forever.

And that was the thought that settled him into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Work had been frantic on Saturday. Castiel and Ash had agreed to work until closing time, and Ellen promised them both free meals and Castiel a ride home. He figured it'd be a fair exchange.

That was until the wave of customers began coming in.

Ash and Castiel had almost left around six, their new work time that they were assigned. Almost as soon as they were jacketed and ready to leave, dozens of people came to the diner. Then everybody went into action.

Meg was frantically helping Ellen out in the kitchen, so the serving was left to Jo, Ash, and Castiel. They each led their customers to tables, taking their orders and serving them. In the height of the activity, Castiel found himself waiting on five tables at once, one of them being a party of ten.

In an incredible act of luck, the teens managed to calm the rush of customers and satisfy them at the same time. They had busy days, of course, but this was nothing like the usual. Castiel was beat by ten o'clock, practically shoving himself around from table to table, putting on smiles and attentively taking orders. Most of his customers were kind in return, but some not so much. Castiel got reprimanded by a few people- mostly families. There was one family who didn't tip him at all, not even a thank you- just an overly messy table and lingering complaints.

Needless to say, by closing time Castiel was feeling like crap. He had never upset a customer, before, and he couldn't help but blame himself for it. He kept his smile on for his last table, though, determined to finish on a good note.

Castiel was waiting on an elderly couple. The couple had come to the diner towards the end of the rush, and they had seen the chaos that Castiel had to deal with.

They sat across from one another at a booth, smiling and delving into light conversation. The man was clad in a suit, and the woman wore a red dress. Castiel knew that they must be celebrating something, so he made sure not to spoil it for them with his overwhelming exhaustion. He greeted them with a smile that completely opposed his current emotion, and introduced himself. The woman smiled brightly.

"Castiel," she spoke. "That's such a handsome name," she complimented. "Were you named after the angel?"

Castiel smiled, shocked she noticed. "Uh- thank you. Yes, actually, I was," he replied. Not many people knew the origin of his name. The angel of Thursday was not a very popular biblical figure. He drew to the conclusion that the couple must be very religious, just like his mother and father. His suspicions were confirmed when he spotted a silver cross nestled against the woman's chest.

Castiel picked up in conversation with them as he took their orders. The diner had mostly emptied out, so he had time to listen to them as they talked, animatedly. The husband revealed to Castiel that it was their anniversary. Castiel congratulated them, and listened as they told him how they'd been married for fifty years. The teen was astounded, honestly, and although he was tired he listened attentively, happy for the couple. They told him of their night- how they had gone to see a play before going to the Harvelle diner for dinner.

"It was quite busy tonight, wasn't it?" the man asked as Castiel carefully placed their food on the table. "There were plenty of cars parked outside here on our way to the theater."

Castiel nodded, putting on a smile. "It was my busiest night working here," he informed them.

The woman nodded, eyes gentle. "We saw you scampering around just now, waiting on tables. Poor thing. You must be tired."

Castiel laughed before he refilled the woman's glass of water. "It's not too bad. I enjoy it when I've got such kind customers," he complimented with a smile. The couple beamed at him. "Is there anything else you'd like?" he asked, now that they both had their meals placed before them.

"I believe we're all set," the man replied.

Castiel nodded, smiling. "I'll come to check on you, in a moment. Enjoy your meal."

At that, Castiel retreated to the kitchen to sit for a few minutes. He was met with exhausted coworkers. Jo was out of the kitchen and waiting on her last table, so Ash, Meg, and Castiel were all gathered together.

"Clarence," Meg called out, lifting a plate. It had a hamburger and fries, and Castiel's stomach grumbled at the sight. "This one's for you."

Castiel nodded. "One moment," he responded before washing his hands and joining her at the small table she and Ash sat at.

"I'm exhausted," Ash murmured, head buried in his folded arms. He seemed ready to pass out. "What time's it?"

Castiel checked the wall clock. "Ten thirty," he replied, picking up his hamburger and taking a bite. He'd need to eat quick. He had about ten minutes before he would have to check on his customers.

Ash grumbled from his arms.

"You should eat something," Meg suggested, shoving his plate forward. "We still gotta clean and close up after the last of the customers leave."

Ash complied, lifting up his head and picking up a fry. "This has been the longest day ever," he complained.

Castiel blocked out his friend's conversation as he ate, quickly. He almost finished his fries when his time was up. He shoved the rest towards Meg and Ash.

"Here," he spoke in a rush as he got up to wash. "I need to finish up."

He washed thoroughly and fixed up his uniform before heading out to check on his customers. After refilling their drinks, Castiel took to working the register as Jo finished with the last of her customers.

Pretty soon closing time came, and Castiel was bidding his customers a good night. Although there was no tip left for him on the bill (they had paid the exact amount in cash), Castiel didn't mind very much. They were kind people, and he enjoyed their company. The sweet couple had definitely bettered his awful night.

Just as Castiel had begun cleaning their table, a hand settled on his back.

He turned around, shocked to see the old lady. She had a smile on her face as she took his hand, placing something there and closing his fingers around it. "Here you are, darling," she spoke, and Castiel looked down to see what she had given him.

Laid in his palm was a crisp green bill, and upon unfolding it Castiel almost gasped.

It was a one hundred dollar bill.

Castiel shook head. "No, I can't accept this," he protested, handing the money back. The lady wouldn't have it.

"We want you to keep it. You were very kind, and you work very hard. We appreciate that," she spoke with a smile.

Castiel didn't know what to say.

The lady gave Castiel's arm a squeeze before she separated from him. "God bless you, child. Good night, get some rest."

He was still speechless, but the teen managed to find his voice. "T-thank you," he replied. "You, too."

Then the couple was gone. And Castiel realized he never got their names.

It was one thing he knew he'd always regret.

* * *

Dean was shocked with the news. "One hundred dollars?!" He exclaimed over the phone. Castiel laughed at the blonde's reaction.

"Yes, I know. I'm still- I still don't know what to think," he replied as he dried his showered hair with his towel. "Ellen couldn't believe it," he spoke with another laugh.

"Dude, that's- that's amazing," Dean spoke in an awed sort of tone. "Wow. You deserve it. Honestly."

Castiel was smiling brightly. Then his smile fell as he sat down on his bed. "I wish I had gotten their names," he spoke wistfully.

"Don't worry about it, Cas. Who knows? Maybe they'll visit, again," Dean suggested.

"Yeah. Maybe," he replied as he laid down on his bed, free hand resting on his belly.

"So, you still coming over, tomorrow?" Dean asked, a smile in his voice.

Castiel nodded, smiling back although Dean couldn't see either of those motions. He had gotten permission from his father earlier in the morning. The man had easily agreed, since Castiel assured him it was a study session. "Yes, I am."

"Awesome. Pick you up at twelve?"

"Sure."

"Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight," Castiel replied before hanging up.

He picked up his book and read until his eyes wouldn't let him, anymore.

* * *

When Castiel woke up, it was to his doorbell ringing. He looked at the time, and fell out of the bed with panic.

It was twelve-ten.

Rushing down the stairs, Castiel thanked The Lord that his father wasn't home. He was probably off working, Castiel realized. He was shocked his father hadn't woken him up for church, earlier. When Mr. Novak was home for weekends, they almost always went together. Castiel hadn't set up an alarm because he was sure he would be woken up bright and early.

Deciding not to think about it, Castiel threw open the front door. Dean stood there, his smile turning into an amused one when he took in Castiel's appearance. Castiel figured he was quite the sight. He had fallen asleep with damp hair, and he was still in his night clothes.

Castiel smiled apologetically. "I slept in," he explained, opening the door wider to let Dean inside.

Dean laughed as he stepped into the house. "Yeah, I figured. I sent you, like, five messages. And called."

"I'm sorry," Castiel apologized. "Just- I'll only need a minute. Uh- you can come up if you want."

Dean nodded, following the dark-haired teen to his room. When they arrived, Dean smiled at the sight of  _Gulliver's Travels_ lying in an unruly fashion on Castiel's pillow.

"Up reading all night?" Dean asked, walking over to the bed to pick up the book and read over the place Castiel was at. Castiel blushed, hiding his face in his closet as he picked out clothes.

"Yes," he replied. "I believe I made it to part three before I fell asleep. Would you mark it, please?" Castiel asked as he brought his clothes to the bathroom.

Dean nodded, picking up a piece of ripped paper that he found on Castiel bed. He figured it was the bookmark, and wedged it in Castiel's spot in the book.

Castiel changed quickly in the bathroom, popping on his contacts and brushing his teeth, so as to rid himself of morning breath. He tried, and failed, to somewhat flatten his messy hair. Strands stuck up stubbornly, fixed like that from Castiel's sleep. After applying some water to particularly unruly strands, Castiel decided to give up on his hair. The thought of Dean waiting in his room made him anxious, so he finished quickly before walking back into his bedroom, picking up his backpack where it sat by the bathroom door.

Dean was sitting on Castiel's desk chair patiently, and he smiled when Castiel emerged dressed and neat from the bathroom. He stood up with a toothy smile, and walked over to Castiel, reaching out a hand and smoothing out the side of the teen's hair in an adoring way. Castiel ducked his head down with embarrassment.

"I can't ever get it to cooperate," he mumbled, grabbing a few textbooks from his desk and stuffing them in his bag.

Dean laughed, a bright sound. "I like it," he assured.

Castiel rolled his eyes, smiling. "Of course you do," he spoke sarcastically, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulders.

Dean smiled back. "You ready?"

Castiel grabbed his cellphone from his nightstand before he nodded. "Yes."

"Alright, let's go."

The boys left Castiel's house and climbed into the Impala. While driving, Dean spoke.

"Andy is already over," he informed his friend. "We were gonna for a few hours then order some Chinese food later. I take it you didn't eat?" Dean asked with a smirk. Castiel nodded.

"No, I did not," he replied. "Chinese actually sounds great."

Dean smiled, fiddling with the music. "So I was thinking we could study for chemistry? There's a test on Tuesday."

Castiel hummed in acknowledgement. He had been so busy with other work that he forgot about chemistry class. "Yes, I have yet to study for that. We've also got the book test in history."

Dean groaned out in frustration. "Shit, I forgot. I'm only halfway through with that book," he spoke.

Castiel laughed. "Then we have much to work on."

Dean grumbled out something along the lines of dropping out. Castiel laughed, reaching down to the cassette box to look through Dean's music. Dean ended up letting Castiel choose.

They arrived at Dean's house, and Castiel was greeted by two studious eighth graders. Well, Andy had fallen asleep on his homework, but Sam was working pretty hard. Upon hearing the door close, Andy's head jerked up.

"Hard at work?" Dean teased. Andy smiled sheepishly.

"I was, uh, relaxing my eyes. Too much reading. You know how it is."

"Ah, I see," Dean replied. When he noticed that the dining table was cluttered, he raised an eyebrow. Dean turned to Castiel. "Wanna study in my room?"

Castiel nodded. "Sure."

Castiel promised Sam he'd help him with Physics after he got some work done, and both Sam and Andy seemed relieved with that. Castiel predicted he'd have a two-student tutoring session in the near future.

When Castiel got to Dean's room, he set his backpack down by Dean's bed, and got to emptying it out. Once the essentials were prepared, he sat down criss-crossed amongst his books. "What should we start with first?" Castiel asked as Dean sat down in front of him, brandished with his own school supplies.

"Chem," Dean replied in a mournful sort of tone. Castiel laughed.

"Chem it is."

They worked for a while, practicing problems and bringing out old homework sheets for reference. Both boys fared well with the subject, so they each had something to offer the other. The work wasn't as laborious as Castiel thought it'd be- they only had to Google search three things on Dean's laptop.

Soon, Dean brought up the cafeteria incident.

"So, you gonna tell me what bothered you?" Dean asked, looking up at Castiel as he fiddled with his chem notes. "Back in the cafeteria?" he clarified. Castiel held onto his pencil, tapping it against his textbook.

"It's sort of embarrassing," Castiel murmured, tracing patterns onto his book with his eraser.

"You can tell me," Dean assured. Castiel looked up at the blond, and he felt his breath catch.

Yes. He could trust him.

Swallowing back a lump in his throat, Castiel took a deep breath. "Uhm- I just heard rumors. Some girls, they were talking bad," Castiel murmured, not looking at Dean.

"What do you mean?" 

Castiel bit his lower lip. "They just said stuff. Like, how I turned you…" Castiel lifted his head, giving Dean a look. The blond understood, nodding. "They said that I… well, basically manipulated you. They said I don't deserve you," Castiel spoke in a whisper, now. "It… upset me," he admitted.

"Cas- you know that's not true," Dean spoke earnestly. Castiel shrugged.

"I know," he replied. "It's just… Dean, what if the others hear what the school is saying?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, a smirk present on his features. "Do you really think they'd believe them?" he asked. Castiel didn't respond. "Hey, you know that it's just a bunch of dumb rumors, right?" Dean spoke. "Cas, you're better than they are. Don't let what they say bother you. And, hell, you know I'd choose you over any of those bastards any day. So would Jo and everyone else. They're not gonna let a bunch of rumors ruin what they think about you."

Castiel shook his head. "That's not the problem, Dean. I don't want people talking about  _you_  like that," Castiel spoke, feeling angry. "I don't want this all to happen to you. Especially not because of me."

It was silent. Then Dean smiled before he leaned in, his lips meeting with Castiel's. Castiel let out a surprised sound that Dean automatically swallowed, silencing him. Almost instantly, Castiel's heart began racing as his insides seemed to tingle and melt uselessly within him. He wanted to protest- to tell Dean that this was serious. But the warm slide of Dean's mouth against his own made him forget his long-prepared speech. Dean pulled away slightly, breath warming Castiel's chin. "I don't care what they say," he spoke into Castiel's mouth, green eyes gazing at his lips. The dark-haired teen breathed it in. "And neither should you," Dean added before giving Castiel another kiss.

Castiel's eyes shut closed, and he tried to focus on breathing through his nose as his lips tingled with the feel of Dean. His arms slowly drooped down to his sides as Castiel put down his textbook and pencil, the rolling of the writing utensil the only noise besides that of their steady kissing.

Hands went on Castiel's sides as Dean moved in closer, easing Castiel's legs open so he could slide in between them to kiss him better. Castiel unfolded his legs to accommodate Dean's position, and he gripped his hands into fists beside him, trying to remind himself to calm down. This was still so new- so enthralling. He would never get used to this- to the way Dean's heat felt, the way he'd scrape his teeth against Castiel's lip gently, sparking hundreds of nerves that traveled throughout his face and down his neck in shivers.

Castiel's hands flew up to Dean's arms, fingers gripping onto his biceps as he tried to remember to breathe. Dean went slowly, though, taking his time to cradle Castiel's lower lip and pull gently, sucking before he let go and placed a peck that Castiel's lips slid into. They were chaste kisses, and Dean went through each kiss carefully, as if he could do this forever… as if each one needed to be perfect. It calmed the shakiness of Castiel's limbs and the shallowness of his breath. It did nothing to ease the butterflies that fluttered around in the pit of his belly, though.

Once he eased into the pattern of their kissing, Castiel moved his attention away from it to give his poor heart a break. Instead, he listened. The sucks and little kissing noises they made sent his heart fluttering. It seemed so loud to him, and Castiel adored the noise, pressing forward to bring about more. It reminded him how real this all actually was. Little happy moans left both of their mouths every now and then to accompany the kissing noises, and each teen swallowed the moans eagerly. Castiel loved hearing Dean let out noises he couldn't keep in. He loved the way his deep voice echoed within Castiel's mouth, tingling his tongue and vibrating in the back of his throat.

 _Castiel_ was the one bringing about those sounds from Dean. Castiel was the one kissing and holding him-  _he_ was the one that got to experience this. Neither of those awful girls could do this. No teasing from anybody could make this not worth it.

The material of their clothes scratched as they shifted together, finding ways to get closer. Fabric rubbed against fabric with a slight shift of hand or a gradual lean of their torso as they tried to get comfortable. Castiel's heartbeat could be felt all throughout him- from the tips of his fingers to the warmth of his stomach. He felt incredibly hot- like the temperature had suddenly risen by dozens. All these sensations that seemed like nothing meant so much to Castiel. It served as proof that they were actually here- that Dean was his and his alone. These noises of comfort drowned away the agitating voices in Castiel's head- replacing them with calming and welcoming thoughts, instead.

Dean's hands moved to Castiel's back, one hand straying up to the back of his head as he started to lean closer, kissing Castiel a little faster now, driven by impatience. Castiel only realized Dean was laying him gently down when he was already halfway there, too distracted by Dean's lips to notice. Seconds later Castiel was lying on the floor with Dean placing himself over him, their bodies molding together as Dean kissed him relentlessly. Castiel burned all over, like a fire was lit inside him. The flames begged for more, and it made Castiel kiss Dean back faster, giving an experimental prod between Dean's lips with his tongue. Dean opened up easy for him, and Castiel slid inside, sliding against Dean's tongue and tracing it hard, gasping out an involuntary moan when Dean returned the favor.

Dean tickled at the roof of Castiel's mouth before pulling out, placing a wet, spit-slick kiss on Castiel's parted lips. The blond practically had his whole body weight on Castiel, now, and he enjoyed the pressure as Dean moved above him. He was positive Dean could feel his racing heart, but it made him feel better when he felt the hard thumping of Dean's heart beating just as fast against his own.

Hands went to Castiel's sides, fingernails scraping down from his ribs to his hips, at the hem of his shirt. Dean's fingers slipped under the fabric of Castiel's shirt to trace across his hips, skimming gently along the sharp angle of bone. Castiel's heartbeat fluttered, and he struggled to regain his lost breaths in between kisses. Dean's hands slid further- hesitantly, at first, but with growing confidence- upwards. Castiel could feel goosebumps rise as his scorching skin met both the cold air of the room and the featherlight fingertips that traced along each rib.

Castiel parted their lips, his own tingling and unconsciously searching for contact from the blond teen above him. "Dean," Castiel breathed out, almost gasping for breath. A begging torridity pooled in his stomach- an insistent, greedy heat that had Castiel squirming with the little bit of room he had. "Dean, wait," Castiel panted, gripping onto Dean's shoulders. He began to feel faint- as if the air around him was suddenly far too thin.

Dean pulled away, slightly, looking at Castiel with concern etched on his features. "What's wrong?" he asked, out of breath, as well. With the weight slightly lifted off of Castiel, his body seemed to whine in protest, making him want to pull Dean back. But the foreign feelings were just too much for him. Too new. Too scary.

Embarrassment made Castiel shy away from Dean's gaze. "I feel... strange," he murmured. "Too hot."

To his surprise, Dean chuckled. "That's normal," he assured. When Castiel didn't respond, though, Dean's smile fell, replaced with a look of understanding. "Do you want to stop?"

Castiel licked his lips, looking at Dean's own before loosening his grip on the blond's shoulders. His body ached for more- stomach pulsing fire throughout his body. Although he wanted to remain like this, he was frightened of the way Dean made his body feel- the way his entire being panicked with every kiss and touch. Castiel nodded.

Giving a slight smile, Dean helped Castiel up, scooting over a bit to give him room. "Sorry," he murmured sheepishly. "I- uh, guess I got carried away."

Castiel didn't know what to say. He didn't want to blame Dean for anything. It had been an amazing feeling- in fact, a huge part of him wanted to continue. But it was his own fault- he had been too afraid. He was afraid of disappointing Dean.

And now he was sure he had done just that.

Pressing his lips together, Castiel just smiled before he returned to studying. After a few minutes, Dean moved to sit at his desk. Castiel felt his heart sink.

Then the door opened.

"Hey," Sam greeted the two. "Andy and I are gonna order Chinese," Sam reported. "What do you guys want?"

Cas and Dean made their orders, and when Sam left, it was silent.

Castiel gathered his courage. "Dean," he began.

"Uh, we should go to the dining room. Sam probably needs help with Physics," Dean spoke, getting up. "You done with chemistry?" 

Castiel nodded, feeling his heart constrict. "Yeah."

"Alright," Dean replied. He got up, grabbing his book for history. He gave Castiel a smile. "I'll be in the living room."

And, at that, Dean left the room.

With a drowning sensation in his chest, Castiel walked to the living room, unable to shake the feeling that he had screwed up big time.


	31. Settle

Things had been… awkward, to say the least.

After their study session incident, Dean seemed to be keeping his distance from Castiel. They would rarely stray close to one another, and whenever Castiel tried to reach out Dean would seem hesitant and extremely wary with every gesture. It unnerved Castiel to no end, and all he wanted was for things to go back to normal. He wished he could take back his actions. He wished he hadn't pushed Dean away when they had finally gotten so close.

But he was just  _afraid_.

Dean had so much experience. That much was obvious. He'd probably been with many people- had enough history to know what he liked and didn't like. And Castiel was only just getting started. Dean would be the first one to lead him into an intimate relationship. All of his intellect on the topic would be derived from whatever he would end up learning from Dean.

Castiel wasn't good enough. He wasn't enough for Dean. No matter how much he wanted to, Castiel couldn't stop thinking that he would never be able to make Dean happy, physically.

He wanted to tell Dean this. He wanted to let him know of his anxieties. But whenever they were alone, he couldn't bring himself to.

So he stayed quiet. For two weeks, the topic went untouched. They didn't kiss once.

It was Dean who breached the silence.

It had been almost three weeks since their study session.

Castiel was in history class, trying to pay attention to the monotonous drawl of his teacher's voice. Mr. Sell was incredibly old, and incredibly boring. He couldn't believe he'd been stuck in this class. The only perk was that Jo was in it, too.

They had assigned seats according to alphabetical order by last name, and it just so happened to work out so that Jo was in the row to Castiel's left, one seat back. He could turn his head around and see her clearly, shooting "I'm-incredibly-bored" looks which she would return with much drama.

Today, though, Castiel didn't do that. Dean had seemed more withdrawn than usual, and it worried Castiel to no end. He couldn't help but listen to the voices in his head- the ones telling him that he was letting Dean slip away.

But maybe that's what Dean wanted? Maybe he just wanted somebody who could meet his needs? Somebody better….

So lost in his thoughts, Castiel didn't hear his name being called.

"Mr. Novak," came the soporific tone, slightly more persistent than usual.

Castiel's head shot up, eyes focusing on his teacher. Most of the class turned to gaze at him, bemusedly.

"Yes, sir?" he inquired, trying not to shy away from his teacher's condescending stare.

He took a deep, rattly breath before speaking in a snooty sort of fashion. "What is your answer?"

Castiel felt himself grow cold. His heart pounded in his chest. The class was staring. "Uh- uhm, to wh-"

"Theodore Roosevelt, sir," Jo supplied, hand raised although she hadn't been called on.

The teacher turned to look at the blond girl in an annoyed fashion. "I do not believe I asked you, Ms. Harvelle," he chastised. He turned to face Castiel. "Pay attention, or I will drop you down a letter grade," he threatened.

Castiel nodded, pulling out a notebook to take notes on the powerpoint the history teacher had displayed. He could practically feel Jo's eyes boring into him.

After the bell finally granted Castiel freedom, he stood up and gathered his things. He could sense Jo standing over him.

"What is going on with you?" she asked, taking Castiel's arm gently when he didn't turn to face her. "Cas," she spoke.

He sighed, shaking his head. "Nothing. I'm fine, honestly."

Jo wasn't convinced. "You've been like this for days," she spoke under her breath.

Castiel sighed as he slung his backpack on his shoulder. "I've just got a lot on my mind," he told her, giving his friend a smile. "But I'm alright. Really."

Drawing her lips into a line, Jo gazed at Castiel suspiciously before she nodded. Castiel knew Jo was worried, but he didn't want to complain to her about something so small. It was probably nothing. Castiel was just panicking. In fact, he'd talk to Dean after school. He would finally get it done.

With that goal in mind, Castiel departed his sixth period class with Jo by his side.

He was utterly shocked to see Dean waiting by the door.

"Hey," the blond greeted them both, a bit jittery. "Can I talk to you for a second, Cas?" Dean asked, shuffling in his spot as he looked from Cas to Jo and then back to Cas.

Jo raised an eyebrow, but didn't question it. "See you guys later, then," she spoke slowly as she walked away.

Castiel bid Jo goodbye and then looked at Dean, his heart racing. Was something wrong? Was Dean mad at him? He seemed anxious.

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, unconsciously tilting his head as he looked at Dean, carefully. The teen's bright green eyes looked urgent. "What's wrong?" Castiel asked.

Dean took Castiel's wrist in his hand and led him through the hallway. "Not here," he mumbled as he led Castiel through a crowd of people, all of whom were staring at the two and whispering. Castiel felt his cheeks go red. "Dean-" he hissed before he realized Dean was leading him to the extra curricular halls. It was practically empty, and just as Castiel thought they were going to stop there Dean dragged him into a janitor's closet.

Sufficiently confused, Castiel found he was speechless. Dean checked the halls one last time before he closed and locked the door. He checked all around the closet, looking around to make sure they were alone before he began walking back towards Cas.

"Dean, what's-" Castiel spoke before Dean shoved him into the nearest wall, pressing their lips together as he kissed Castiel passionately, moving his hands from Castiel's shoulders up his neck and to the sides of his face, cradling it as his fingers tangled in Castiel's messy black locks. Castiel was shocked, but he found his eyes falling closed as he began kissing Dean back, sliding in Dean's lip between his own and kissing him, hard. Dean broke their kiss, breath shaky as he touched their noses together. "I've been wanting to do that for weeks now, Cas," Dean whispered hoarsely as he kissed Castiel again, pressing their lips together in a needy, wet kiss. "Damnit," he groaned. "It's been weeks you son of a bitch," Dean mumbled as he kissed Castiel again, sucking hard on his lower lip as he pressed their bodies together, pulling the kiss-reddened flesh gently with his teeth. Castiel moaned softly in response, his hands gripping onto Dean's shirt at his sides.

When they parted their lips Castiel took a deep shaky breath, trying to tame the flame in his stomach that tingled down to his groin. "Dean," he whispered, and the blond seemed to pause, gauging Castiel's response. Castiel swallowed, trying to regain his breath before he spoke. "I- I thought," he broke off, not sure how to word himself.

"I'm sorry," Dean spoke, dropping his hands from their place on Castiel's hair. As he began to back away, Castiel fisted his hands tighter in Dean's shirt, pulling him back.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. He looked from Dean's eyes back to his lips.

Dean kissed him again.

"I thought I disappointed you," Castiel admitted after they parted their lips.

Dean looked confused for a moment before he suddenly smiled, relieved, letting out a laugh that bubbled from deep within him. "Cas," he spoke, smiling as he advanced forward slightly, as if to kiss him, again. He stopped, though, their lips barely brushing as he spoke. "You could never disappoint me," he assured, giving the teen a peck. Castiel leaned into it, but Dean separated them so he could continue. "I felt like I was rushing you," he breathed out. "I didn't want you to be scared," he explained.

Castiel suddenly laughed, and Dean's eyes widened with shock. "Dragging me into a janitor's closet and seducing me probably isn't the best way to ease my fears," Castiel chided.

Dean seemed hesitant, like he was going to back away, again. But when Castiel gave him a smile and a long, affectionate kiss, the blond knew he had only been teasing.

Dean returned Castiel's kiss before nosing him away, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Sorry for being a dick," he murmured, making Castiel laugh.

"You weren't. I believe we just need to practice our communication," Castiel replied, rather shakily since Dean was trailing his lips against Castiel's jaw, planting soft kisses every now and then. Dean hummed in acknowledgement, his breath tickling at the skin underneath Castiel's ear. His lips slightly grazed the lobe, and Castiel felt his knees weaken.

Castiel ducked his head down to catch Dean's lips, ushering him back up so they could kiss. Dean's hands flew back to their place on Castiel's hair, giving the dark locks a light tug as he deepened their kiss. Castiel complied. He was done talking. He was done being scared. All he wanted now was the taste of Dean and the comforting warmth he brought.

He opened his mouth slightly against their kiss and ran a tongue along Dean's lower lip, making the blond boy stifle a moan into Castiel's mouth. Dean pressed his body closer to Castiel's, his hands falling from Cas's head to search for purchase all over his torso before settling on his hips.

Dean parted their lips again, but only for a short breath before he was back on Castiel, gently opening the boy's lips with his tongue. He slid into Castiel's mouth with ease, searching all around as it familiarized itself with the teen's taste and warmth, and entire being _._ The dark-haired boy whimpered as Dean's tongue traced lightly along his teeth before pulling out, allowing the two to take another short breath before Dean's lips were latched onto Castiel's throat- sucking and softly licking a trail down the skin of the quivering boy. "Damnit, Cas," Dean moaned against Castiel. "You're so innocent and pure," he whispered as he kissed at Castiel's jaw, breath hot and enticing on Castiel's flesh, making the blue-eyed boy mewl with want. "You're driving me crazy. I don't know what to do- what you want or how I should..." Dean shook his head, seeming almost scared, but just as equally filled with lust. "I want you so bad," he breathed as he kissed Castiel again, making the boy's knees wobble before he collapsed, only being held up by Dean's weight pressing him into the wall before he managed to get his legs to work, again. "Think 'bout you all the time," Dean mumbled as he kissed Castiel again, hands going down Castiel's back. "I can't stop thinkin' 'bout you," he panted.

" _Dean,_ " Castiel moaned as Dean's hands drifted down to the small of Castiel's back, pressing his hips against Dean's own. He couldn't really manage to say much else. All coherent thoughts were impossible to utter with Dean pressed against him and kissing him like it was their last day on Earth. Castiel let out a low groan as Dean ground against him tentatively- just once before he placed his face into Castiel's neck, pressing soft kisses into the skin that resided there.

"Tell me whatchya want me to do, Cas," he whispered as he kissed Castiel's neck slowly, tracing down the vein that pulsed there and grinding them together again, softly. "I'll give you anything. I'll make you feel good," he promised, moving up and nibbling at Castiel's earlobe, now. Castiel's brain felt like mush in his skull and his vision became fuzzy with ecstasy as he felt Dean's lips softly cradle his ear, his teeth pulling gently on it as his chin tickled Castiel's neck. The dark-haired boy was impossibly hard against Dean's own bulge, and all he could think about was that he  _needed_ release. He needed Dean  _right now_ or he'd go completely  _insane_.

" _Fuck_ , yes," Castiel murmured, unable to help himself. He could feel Dean smile against him. Groaning, Castiel slid his hands up Dean's shirt, tracing up his back and scratching lightly down it, making Dean arch into him. Their hips connected and their groins brushed roughly, and Castiel gasped, his head banging back against the wall and eyelids fluttering closed as he moaned loudly, cut off by Dean's lips against his own. He released his moan into Dean's mouth, and traced his hands along Dean's sides, now, feeling strong muscles move beneath his palms. Dean parted their lips and went to lick and kiss along Castiel's collarbone, gently biting at one area before sucking hard. Castiel's nails dug into Dean's skin, and he ground his hips into Dean's own. " _God_ \- so good, feels so good," Castiel managed to gasp out, his mind and body and entire being tuned into Dean- into what they were sharing.

But then he remembered where they were.

And he could faintly hear the warning bell signaling that they had one minute to get to class.

"Wait, we can't," Castiel panted, removing his hands from under Dean's shirt as he feebly attempted to push him away. "W-we've got class," Castiel tried to protest just as Dean's hand pressed lightly agaisnt Castiel's groin, palming him through his jeans and making Castiel let out a stuttering, deep moan.

"Shouldn't we take care of this?" Dean whispered, looking into Castiel's eyes as he smiled, his own glazed with lust- his lids hooded. Dean's pressed the heel of his palm against Castiel's erection, and the teen involuntarily pushed into the pressure. Castiel's eyes fluttered closed as he bit on his lower lip to soften the intensity of his groan, his head thumping once more against the wall he was being pressed into. He could feel Dean grin against his neck. "Feel good?" he asked, kissing Castiel's neck before he kissed him on the lips, again, which Castiel returned roughly, filled with need. The dark-haired boy nodded frantically- at a loss for words. "Let's skip," Dean suggested. "We could go to my house before Sammy gets there. We'd be all alone," Dean whispered into Castiel's ear before he nibbled on it again, his lips brushing down Castiel's jaw and back to his neck where he sucked  _hard._ Castiel whimpered, leaning his head back further as he bit harder onto his lip, his hands faltering against Dean's sides for a moment as he searched for somewhere to hold onto- an anchor to keep him standing.

" _Dean,_ " Castiel moaned as Dean breathed hot breaths into Castiel's neck, cupping him and pressing his palm harder against Castiel's erection. " _Fuck_ ," he nearly begged as he bucked into Dean's touch, his hands gripping Dean's shirt so tight he might rip it. "We  _can't_ ," he spoke shakily, using all his effort not to stutter.

The bell rang and Castiel's eyes flew open as fear suddenly broke their bubble, invading Castiel's mind. Thoughts of what his father would do to him if he were to skip made themselves present, screaming and persistent. Castiel was suddenly sure he'd be unable to resume any of this with an eased mind. He grasped Dean's shoulders and pried him away- feeling a deep regret at the loss of Dean's hand and lips. His erection twitched with need, but he ignored it with great effort. "I need to go to class," Castiel panted, looking into Dean's eyes before looking down at his lips instinctively. He kissed Dean softly, and the blond boy moved his head slightly forward to prolong the sweet contact. Their lips separated, and Castiel took a deep breath to fill his lungs and clear his foggy head. "We can finish this after school," Castiel breathed out, looking into Dean's eyes.

Dean didn't look pleased, but he nodded.

"Alright," he spoke- voice hoarse as he took a few steps back so the teens could calm themselves. Castiel felt warmth and slight satisfaction burst through him when he saw Dean's bulge in his jeans, and he looked away, licking his swollen lips as he shakily picked up his backpack, which had been dropped onto the floor. After a few minutes of deep breathing and trying to pretend Dean wasn't a foot close to him- warm and aroused and  _near-_  Castiel willed his erection away. He looked at Dean, and the teen smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry," he spoke, seeming embarrassed.

Castiel shook his head, giving a shy smile and suddenly laughing lightly at the ridiculousness of their whole predicament. "Don't be," he replied, making Dean's eyes widen slightly with surprise. Castiel smiled bigger, this time, and walked forward to take hold of Dean's shirt and pull him in for a kiss. "I... enjoyed it," he whispered after they parted their lips.

Dean let out a breathy laugh. "I coulda made it better if you didn't want to go to class so bad," Dean mumbled, giving Castiel another kiss.

"We'll continue after school," Castiel promised, to which Dean nodded in agreement.

"Yeah," he murmured before his hands flew up to button Castiel's button-up the highest it would allow. At Castiel's confusion, Dean looked sheepish. "You're going to have some awkward and hard to explain bruises on your neck," Dean spoke as he finished, his thumb brushing along Castiel's pulse- right under his jaw. Castiel's breath caught at the action, and he hoped Dean couldn't feel his heart pick up in its pace. "Best not to raise any questions, right now," he decided.

Castiel smiled slihtly, giving Dean a kiss that was longer than it should have been, and stirred his settled arousal. "Thank you," he murmured against Dean's lips, pulling away and kissing his chin. Dean was the one that had to put space in between them, electricity and warmth buzzing between the two.

"I'll meet you after seventh," Dean spoke up, letting go of Castiel, but keeping hold on his wrist. Castiel gazed at Dean, inquisitively. "I'm making up a quiz for math- Mrs. Madison gave me the class off," he explained.

Castiel was disappointed, but he decided it was for the best. Dean would be too distracting for him, right now. And he had enough of distractions during class. He nodded, kissing Dean, once more. "Alright."

When they finally separated from each other, Dean gestured towards the door. "You first," he told him.

Castiel nodded and walked to the exit, feeling Dean's eyes watching him as he unlocked the door and opened it, making his way to class.

* * *

Castiel had been on edge all throughout his last period as he tried his hardest not to think about what he and Dean had done in the janitor's closet. The last thing he needed was to get hard in class.

A part of him had to admit he really liked this part of their relationship, and of Dean. All the things that he had whispered and done….

Castiel shuddered, adjusting his position in his seat as he stared down the clock.

Two more minutes.

Fuck.

Soon they'd be kissing, again. Dean would touch him like he had earlier. He'd whisper to him and bite on his ear, and-

One more minute.

Castiel's heart was pounding wildly in his chest, and he tried to calm his suddenly shaky breathing. What would they do once they made it to Dean's house? Surely Sam would be home, as well. So they wouldn't be able to be particularly loud about it.

Castiel felt himself blush. What did he think they'd be doing? Well, Dean would want to finish what they started, right? Ultimately, that would lead to….

Oh.

Castiel licked his lips as he stared down the clock. They had never gone farther than kissing, until today. Maybe it was their lack of physical interaction in the past few weeks that had them both so riled up. The thought that Dean had been thinking about kissing and touching Cas for the past few weeks made Castiel incredibly turned on, and slightly smug. Had Dean really been thinking about doing all this? Castiel didn't really think about doing intimate things, besides kissing. The thought of going further had never really made it to Castiel's mind, until now. But the thought of doing more with Dean was incredibly appealing. However, he didn't know how to do much of anything.

It wasn't like he had a laptop to Google these sort of things on.

He  _was_ really new at this, wasn't he?

Finally, the bell rang and Castiel forced himself to slowly pack his things to give Dean time to get to his class. When he walked out and saw Dean waiting for him, his heart gave a big, nervous leap. Castiel smiled shyly, and Dean returned it, his eyes quickly scanning Castiel up and down, not-so-subtly, as he cleared his throat and looked into Castiel's eyes. "Uh, you ready?"

"Huh?" Castiel asked, feeling nervous.

Dean gave a smirk. "To leave…?" he asked slowly.

Castiel blushed and blinked once. "Oh-uh- yeah," he stuttered. Dean gave him a smile and a quick wink before the two made their way to the parking lot, slowly, giving everyone time to leave so they could be alone- shoulders brushing as they walked side-by-side. The air between them hummed with energy, and Castiel could already feel himself warm up in Dean's presence. After the halls had cleared, Dean's hand found Castiel's, and he intertwined their fingers, giving Castiel's a light squeeze. Castiel felt his heart stutter and his breath falter. Although it was a small gesture- one of which only lasted a minute before they had to separate their hands when people appeared in the hallway- it was very intimate and it left Castiel blushing as though they had just had an intense make-out session.

When they finally made it to the car, the parking lot was almost nearly empty. The teens slid into their seats and Dean looked around the parking lot nonchalantly from the driver's seat. Then he turned to Castiel and gave him a kiss.

"Dean!" Castiel exclaimed, shocked.

"Nobody's lookin'," Dean told him as he smiled, placing one more kiss on Castiel's cheek before he turned away and started the car. Castiel frowned.

"Somebody could have easily caught us," he chastised, buckling himself up. Even with that risk, Castiel felt slightly pleased with the buzz of warmth his cheek and lips felt from Dean's quick kisses.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I honestly don't even care, anymore. Let 'em," he challenged, driving out of the parking lot.

Castiel found himself smiling, despite himself. He chuckled. "I'd just really like to get to your place without any trouble," he retaliated. He got a smile out of Dean.

"I hear ya," Dean suggested with a raise of his eyebrow and an up-down scope of Cas's body that had the dark-haired boy red as a beet. That only made Dean smirk, leaning in for one more kiss. Castiel rolled his eyes and gave it to him.

When they got to the middle school, Sam wasn't waiting outside. Dean made a indecipherable complaint under his breath, but as soon as he saw his little brother walk out the door, a signature goofy smile lit his face. Castiel smiled at Dean's poorly-hid affection. He cared very much for his brother, even if he'd give half-hearted complaints about him, at times.

Sam climbed into the Impala and Dean instantly struck a conversation with his brother, asking him about his day and what he'd like to have for dinner. Sam seemed delighted with Dean's upbeat personality, and he returned the conversation, telling Dean how he got an A on his history project that Dean had stayed up all night helping him with. Apparently the Winchesters had created a battlefield replica of the Civil War, adding in little lego men and painting them according to the sides they fought on. Sam had done his report on the Lawrence Massacre, and along with the replica he had written a report. His teacher had been thoroughly impressed.

Castiel relaxed into his seat as he listened to the brothers' conversation, feeling the impatient heat within him dwindle to a light buzz. He smiled when Sam directed the conversation towards him, telling Castiel how he had also gotten a ninety-eight on his previous physics exam. Castiel congratulated him, a smile on his face as they planned out what they'd be covering in their study session, today.

Dean seemed euphoric.

Castiel tried not to think about what he and Dean would do once they reached the condo. It just served to make him anxious, and he couldn't stop worrying about not satisfying Dean. He didn't even know what any of this stuff was like. The most wisdom he had on the topic was from his seventh grade health class. And, to be honest, that had just confused him even more.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel turned to face Dean. The blond caught his eye while in mid-conversation with Sammy, and gave him a smile, letting their fingers brush, since Sam couldn't see. Returning the smile, Castiel felt his anxiety repress slightly.

He suddenly realized that things weren't so different. This was  _Dean_. Just because they were in a relationship didn't mean that Dean was a new person. He was still Castiel's best friend. And he had no reason to be nervous.

Upon arriving at the Winchester's house, things went as they normally did. It seemed like Dean was working to make Castiel comfortable, because he offered to make dinner while Castiel and Sam worked on their homework, giving them much space.

So Castiel reviewed Physics with Sam while Dean baked some broccoli cheese pasta. After dinner was prepared, they all worked on schoolwork as they ate in comfortable silence. The space from Dean served to ease Castiel's nerves, and once they were all finished eating Castiel spoke up.

"Dean?" he inquired. The blond seemed to jump at Castiel's voice, much to Sam's amusement. "Do you think I could use the computer? For the… research project?" Castiel fibbed quickly.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed before his eyes widened in understanding. Castiel thanked God that he didn't point out Castiel's lie, unconsciously. "Oh- yeah, here, let me help you get it up and running," Dean offered, standing up and taking everybody's bowls to the kitchen in a rush. "You finished studying, Sam?" he asked as the younger Winchester closed his math book.

Sam nodded, giving a smile. "Yeah, I'm gonna watch TV," he informed, heading to the living room.

"Alright," Dean replied. "Let me know if you need anything. Cas and I are gonna finish working in my room."

Sam nodded again, absentmindedly, as he made his way to the living room where he reclined on the couch, switching on the TV. Castiel fixed his backpack over his shoulder, and followed Dean out of the kitchen to his room. His heart was hammering with excitement.

When they got to Dean's room and Dean locked the door, the blond dropped his backpack and basically threw himself at Castiel, kissing him just like he had in the janitor's closet. Castiel dropped his own backpack as he put his arms around Dean's neck, kissing him deeply and wildly as he ran fingers through Dean's hair, trying to reclaim every moment they'd lost. It seemed as though Dean was thinking about this just as much as Castiel had been.

"Jacket. Off. Now," Dean ordered between kisses as he shucked Castiel's jacket off his body, and then shrugged off his own. When their coats were off Dean grasped Castiel's hips, fingers digging into the sensitive flesh, and Castiel put his arms around Dean's neck, again.

Castiel sucked on Dean's lip, dragging his teeth lightly against it as he swallowed Dean's deep moan, feeling particularly satisfied with the noises he made Dean make. He enjoyed being able to satisfy Dean. He liked the surprised noises the blond would make- the gasps and choked off moans. It made him feel like maybe he got the hang of things, after all.

Gripping onto the cotton of Dean's t-shirt, Castiel pulled it up slightly, pulling away to look at Dean for permission. The blond gave a nod before lifting his arms up to assist Castiel in the stripping of the green material. Once it was in its rightful place on the ground, Castiel pulled back and admired the view, now that he could. How many times had he stopped himself from ogling at Dean, before? How many times had he imagined what Dean's skin would feel like- how perfectly it would slide underneath Castiel's fingertips?

Exhaling a breath he didn't realize he was holding, Castiel indulged himself, running fingers over the elevated rise of Dean's muscles, tracing along them and trying to get his chaotic mind to memorize this- to memorize the beauty displayed before him. His fingers dipped perfectly into the indents of Dean's shape- it was like it was inviting Castiel in, begging him to continue. Castiel placed his hands on Dean's shoulders, running his palms down the curve of them, where his fingers instinctively gripped onto Dean's biceps.

Dean had freckles on his shoulders. They were light, due to the elongated winter, but they still sat there, dotting the expanse of Dean's creamy skin. Castiel skidded his thumbs over them, and he smiled when he felt Dean shiver underneath him- little flutters of his muscles as goosebumps littered his skin in places the freckles didn't quite reach. Dean was blushing under Castiel's attention, and that made the dark-haired teen's smile soften.

Looking up into Dean's eyes, Castiel was startled to see how dark they had gotten. Dean's eyelids were hooded, and lips parted as their eyes met. It made Castiel's gut pull, and he grinned before he continued to kiss him, small kisses before he slid his tongue impatiently into Dean's mouth as he ran hands over Dean's muscled back, tracing the bumps and indents of his spine before his fingers strayed back to Dean's torso. He ran his thumbs over Dean's erect nipples, making the blond boy let out a gasp and a low groan. "Cas," he mumbled after he parted their lips, lust-filled eyes looking into Castiel's. "Can we…?" he asked as he glanced behind Castiel. Castiel looked over at where Dean had gestured to see his bed. He felt his heart stutter in his chest at the thought of laying down in Dean Winchester's bed, with Dean laying with him and kissing him and touching him- "Only, you know, if you want," Dean muttered, embarrassed at Castiel's silence.

Castiel turned back to face Dean and nodded, giving him an encouraging kiss. "Yes," he whispered against Dean's lips. Dean gave a small smile and kissed Castiel back, leading him towards the bed as he laid them down, not breaking their kiss, once. Dean positioned himself over Castiel and kissed him deeply, making Castiel groan with need.

In came the familiar heat as their bodies molded. This time it was different, though. Castiel was ready. He wanted to do this now more than ever.

Removing his lips from Castiel's, Dean unbuttoned Castiel's shirt, his fingers warm when they made contact with Castiel's skin. When he was about to take it off, Castiel remembered his scars, and put his hands over Dean's to stop him. "Leave it," he mumbled as he kissed Dean, silencing him of any protest. He didn't want Dean to see the defects. Any more interruptions, and Castiel would go mad.

Distracted by Castiel's lips, Dean kissed him back and moaned softly, hips bucking into Castiel's, drawing a gasp from the dark-haired teen that caused him to part their lips. Driven by Castiel's noise of encouragement, Dean ground into Castiel over and over, rubbing their erections together until Castiel was stuttering for breath and Dean was biting his lip to keep in the louder of his moans. The bed rocked with their quick movement, and Dean had to force himself to slow down so as not to make too much noise. He ended up circling his hips against Castiel's, slow and hard movements that had Castiel covering his mouth to muffle his gasps and noises of pleasure. " _Cas_ ," Dean growled as their cocks caught together through the fabric, dragging before Dean pulled away.

Dean stopped all movement and reached down to Castiel's jeans, palming him through the fabric and making Cas whimper as he put an arm over his eyes and leaned his head back. "Look at me, Cas. 'Wanna see your face," Dean whispered as he unbuckled Castiel's belt and worked at the button to his jeans. "Look at me. Tell me how you want me to touch you," Dean told him as he unzipped Castiel's pants and stuck a hand in Castiel's jeans, placing it over Castiel's cock, but not rubbing it. His hand was still.

" _Dean_ ," Castiel hissed as he removed his arm and looked into Dean's eyes. "More,  _please_ ," he begged.

Dean leaned forward and kissed at Castiel's neck. "Tell me what you want me to do," Dean ordered him, his voice thick with lust.

Castiel whimpered, embarrassed. "Dean, please-"

Dean trailed his lips from Castiel's neck to his nipple and ran a tongue over the pink bud, making Castiel gasp. "You want me to touch you?" Dean purred, scraping his teeth lightly over Castiel's nipple, making Castiel arch his back as his eyes fluttered, frantic hands moving to grasp Dean's hair, shaky fingers digging into the golden locks. Castiel nodded, but Dean pressed on, teasing Castiel's flesh- making him press his lips into a line to hold back a deep groan.

" _Ah!_ Dean, more, please," Castiel moaned, pressing against the blond, looking for contact.

"Tell me what you want, Castiel," Dean ordered him, kissing his nipple again and flicking his tongue against it before he bit it lightly- teasingly.

"I-I-  _oh,_ I want," Castiel broke off, fisting the sheets harder. "I- don't know," Castiel whispered, putting a hand over his eyes. "Just-  _Dean_."

Suddenly, Dean seemed to understand. He pulled away and nodded, smiling gently before giving Castiel a kiss. "It's okay," he whispered, hand gripping Castiel's own and easing it off his eyes. He intertwined their fingers. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I'm gonna take care of you, I promise."

Castiel swallowed, nodding frantically as he gazed at Dean with disoriented eyes. He removed their locked hands and held onto Dean's face, giving him a kiss before running his fingers through the blond tendrils on Dean's head. He rested their foreheads together, trying to catch his breath. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay."

Dean kissed Castiel's cheek, smiling against it. He seemed happy- ecstatic. He kissed Castiel's cheek, again. "Don't worry," he murmured, pulling away so he could grab hold of Castiel's jeans. He slid them down to the teen's ankles, and off in one fluid motion. Castiel held his breath, his stomach sucked in and eyes panicked. Dean slid up to kiss Castiel in a steady pattern, trying to calm him. "I'm gonna take good care of you," he promised, his words merely hot gusts of breath that seeped into Castiel's skin. He hesitated for a moment, fingers grazing against the edge of Castiel's boxers, teasing at the sensitive flesh that laid there. "Is it okay?" he asked, looking into Castiel's eyes.

Holding his breath, Castiel nodded. "Yes- yes, just-"

Dean's finger found Castiel's cock through the thin cotton, tracing along it and to the tip, where he used two fingers to squeeze it, lightly. Castiel gasped, his finger flying to his mouth, where he bit on it to stifle any loud noises. Dean continued to tease along Castiel's length with one finger, up and down slowly before using the rest of his fingers to scratch lightly up and down in the same slow and soft fashion. He kissed at Castiel's chest as he did this, his tongue teasing at Castiel's nipples. The lack of friction drew Castiel to the edge, and he bucked his hips. Dean splayed a free hand on Castiel's leg to still the movement, continuing with his teasing stride.

" _Dean_ , please- I can't," Castiel begged, circling his hips and arching his back- searching for  _something_.

Dean suddenly made a loose fist around Castiel through his boxers, dragging his hand up where he twisted at the head, then back down. Castiel stifled a groan of satisfaction, his body aching for more pressure. Dean suddenly answered Castiel's wants, and hooked his thumbs onto the waistband on Castiel's boxers before dragging them slowly down and off.

"Dean," Castiel gasped, feeling panic edge its way into his heart.

"I'll make you feel good," Dean whispered. "It's okay. Hey- the nightstand, can you reach it?" Dean asked, voice shaky.

Castiel twisted onto his side, reaching out an arm to it.

"The drawer- there's a bottle in there. Grab it," Dean instructed.

Confused, Castiel obliged. Sure enough, there was a bottle filled with clear liquid. It looked like gel.

"Yeah, that's it. Hand it over," Dean spoke, stretching out his hand. Castiel hesitated before giving it to him. At Castiel's cautious look, Dean laughed. "Don't worry," he assured. "It's- uh, it's just to slick you up," he explained.

Castiel still didn't understand, but he nodded, nonetheless.

Dean opened the bottle, applying a little onto his hand. Castiel could feel his stomach do a nervous flop, his heart accelerating. His questions were answered when Dean's slicked hand fisted Castiel's cock, pumping him in slow, practiced motions. The initial sensation made Castiel gasp with shock- it was as if a jolt of electricity had charge through his body, leaving him shivering in trickling warmth. Castiel had to bite on his knuckles to keep from making noise- trying not to thrust his hips to advance the teasing pace. He whimpered.

"You want more, Cas?" Dean asked, voice thick with lust. He unbuckled his own belt, unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping them one handed as he rubbed himself through his boxers to alleviate some tension. Castiel didn't answer him, but looked down at where Dean was touching himself, very intrigued and curious, and incredibly turned on. Dean caught Castiel's stare, and he stifled a moan. They kept up wordless eye contact, Castiel looking up into Dean's eyes as he worked both Castiel and himself. Castiel bit back a moan as Dean pumped him faster, now, obliging to Castiel's unvoiced wants. "Do you ever touch yourself?" Dean suddenly asked, looking into Castiel's eyes. Castiel shook his head, lost for words- his mouth slightly agape, cheeks flushed with ecstasy. Dean smiled, giving a breathy laugh as he stilled his own hand, shoving his jeans down to his shins. "So you haven't had an orgasm?" Dean asked, curious. He kicked off his own jeans, now, and Castiel had to force himself not to pause Dean's hand so he could have his own turn at touching him. Again, Castiel shook his head no. He felt embarrassed and ashamed, but Dean wasn't judging him. Instead, he smiled and gave Castiel a kiss. "It feels really good, I promise," Dean told him.

"Dean…" Castiel finally managed to whisper in a whimper, bucking up to quicken Dean's slowing pace.

"I know, I know. I've got you," he whispered before removing his hand from himself to focus on Castiel. Castiel moaned beneath him and his hips bucked involuntarily against `Dean's hand, needing more. Dean kept his own pace, though, driving Castiel mad. All the sensations were growing stronger, building up as Castiel felt himself edging closer and closer to an inevitable closure- something that was so close yet still out of reach. "D-Dean," he stuttered. "Dean, I'm, I can't-" he whimpered.

"Shh," Dean soothed as he stilled Castiel's hips with one hand fingers brushing lightly against Castiel's balls. He pumped him fast with his free hand, twisting his hand and letting his palm rub hard against the head of Castiel's cock at the end of every stroke. "It's alright," he panted. "Just let it happen. Let it go, I've gotcha."

So Castiel fisted the sheets beneath him as he arched his back, trying to keep eye contact with Dean. His eyes fluttered closed, and Dean spoke. "Keep them open. I wanna see ya when you come. I wanna see you," Dean told him. So Castiel kept his eyes open with great effort, looking into Dean's own. He was so close, he could tell. He just needed that extra push.

Dean knew exactly what to do. He reached down- while still pumping Cas- and took his nipple in his mouth, giving it a tug-

Castiel let out a loud almost-yell, his mouth dropped open as he came. Dean had stifled the shocked sound, kissing Castiel furiously as he tried to silence him and milk him through his orgasm. " _Fuck,_ " Cas exclaimed, the word muffled against Dean's lips as his body spasmed through the orgasm. Everything seemed distant- all sounds were muffled, and all touch seemed dull. All Castiel could feel was a pure bliss he could hardly describe. Soon after it dwindled away, Castiel realized Dean was still pumping him, trying to play out the orgasm as long as possible. Castiel gave a groan of pleasure as he shuddered, a second wave coming along.

Eventually, Dean released Castiel's cock, placing kisses on Castiel's collarbone as the teen moaned incoherent words. Suddenly, Castiel was grabbing Dean's arms, reversing their positions as he laid Dean on his back. Dean looked shocked, gazing up at Castiel.

Castiel had no idea what he was doing. Swallowing, he tried to remain calm as he leaned down to kiss Dean. The blond pressed into it, breath hot and body squirming. "Cas," Dean breathed out.

Castiel separated them, kissing Dean's neck gently as he slid off the blond's own boxers. He sat up and dragged them down to Dean's ankles and off before he returned to kissing Dean's neck, driving wrecked moans from the blond. "Cas, please, just-" Dean broke off.

Nodding, Castiel sat up, fumbling around for the bottle Dean had used. When he found it, he put some in his hand, just as Dean had done.

Then he was lost. Nervous. He had never done this before, what if-

"Cas," Dean breathed out, taking the teen's lubed hand. "Just- like what I did. Just do that," he instructed, voice barely there at all.

Castiel nodded again, gathering himself together as he wrapped his hand around Dean's cock, moving his hand up and down and twisting as Dean had, deciding he was doing it right judging by the groan that Dean had let out.

He reached back up to kiss Dean as he pumped him, happy to do something more familiar. Dean returned the kisses roughly, pausing every now and then to whisper some profanity. It made Castiel incredibly warm- riding on the amazing feeling that bringing pleasure to Dean did to him. It didn't matter that he didn't know what to do. Dean led him through it- instructing him and telling him what felt best. He was incredibly patient, mind the situation, and in no time Castiel got the hang of it.

So he explored, going slow, fast- loose, and tight. He teased at Dean as Dean had teased at him, squeezing lightly at the head and letting his finger trace the slit, there. That had gotten a particularly loud groan from the blond, that he had suppressed with his arm and then dismissed with a laugh and some profanity. Dean was flushed from his chest up, and when he wasn't voicing his pleasure, he was smiling and bringing Castiel up to kiss him, or running his fingers gently down Castiel's back.

When Castiel could feel that Dean was close, he went fast in his motions and firm with his grip, since Dean seemed to like that the most, and in no time Dean was coming, his noise of release muffled against Castiel's lips.

Castiel pumped him through orgasm, and after a few seconds Dean moaned, stilling Castiel's hand. "No- no more, God, no more," he begged, trying to regain his breath. Castiel apologized before lying down on top of him, ignoring the mess of lube and come that covered them both. His body was weak and exhausted, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

After a while, Dean spoke.

"That was…  _amazing_ ," Dean sighed, a goofy smile permanent on his lips. He seemed flustered, covering his eyes with the back of his hand as he laughed. Castiel let out a breathy laugh.

"I was so nervous," he admitted. "I'm sorry that you had to direct me through most of it."

Dean laughed, again, his hand removed as he gazed admiringly at Castiel. "Are you kidding me? You have no idea how amazing you were," Dean replied, a finger running along Castiel's cheek before he kissed him. His clean hand drifted to Castiel's back, sliding underneath Castiel's shirt and rubbing lazy circles there. "Shit, Cas, you were great."

Castiel smiled wearily, turning his head up to look at Dean. Dean returned the smile, lazily, reaching out a hand to push back Castiel's hair. Dean reversed their positions, rolling over and leaning above Castiel, giving him soft kisses on his reddened lips.

"You're brilliant," he murmured against Castiel's lips, kissing the corner of them, now, then making his way to Castiel's chin as he gave him light kisses, making Castiel smile. He kissed Cas's jaw, then made his way to his neck. Dean could hear Castiel's low hum.

" _Dean_ ," he murmured, running his hands through Dean's hair as the blond boy kissed at Castiel's chest, slowly tracing his fingers along the buttons of Castiel's shirt. Castiel's heart picked up in his chest, beating fast. If Dean didn't stop, they'd have to do this all over, again. And Castiel did not think he had the energy to do so. So Castiel stopped him, hands settling on either side of Dean's face to lead him up to his lips. He gave him a kiss before he spoke.

"I need to shower," he complained, earning a laugh from Dean. The blond rolled off him.

"Yeah- we both do. Go ahead, you go first," Dean insisted, helping up Castiel.

Castiel left the shower smelling like Dean's shampoo.


	32. Lies

Castiel had been avoiding his father for the rest of the week. He could sense the dangerous aura that accompanied the man, wafting about him wherever he went. Castiel made sure to stay out of his father's path, and to do what he was told. Of course, avoiding the outburst would be inevitable. Castiel had been living alone with his father long enough to know that.

When Castiel came home from school on Friday, the first thing he was met with was the stench of vodka. His skin had gone ice cold, and he suddenly felt the need to run as fast as he could away from his home. But he had already opened the door- his father already knew he was here. So, gathering up his courage, Castiel stepped inside.

It was eerily quiet. This only served to heighten Castiel's nerves. He searched about his home quietly before spotting his dad in the living room, reclining on a couch. He didn't appear to be moving, besides the steady rise and fall of his chest. Castiel took this opportunity to sneak towards the staircase.

"Castiel," a monotonous voice rung through the empty house.

The teen froze- hand stiff on the railing. It took him a moment to find his voice.

"Yes, sir?" he replied, wincing at the shake in his voice.

"Here.  _Now_ ," the voice slurred back, tone dangerous. Castiel looked up the stairs longingly before making his way to the living room.

Mr. Novak was attentive, now, and he glared as Castiel entered. Castiel tried to neutralize his facial expression, so as not to tip off his father. He stood attentively in front of his father's spot on the couch. The man got up, a nasty look fixed on his face. "Is there something wrong?" Castiel asked, throat tightening with fear.

His father stumbled slightly in his position before straightening himself up. "Where have you been?" he questioned, voice icy.

Castiel felt his mouth go dry. "I- I was with Sam and Dean. We went to Ellen's diner," he explained. After his working schedule changed, Castiel's father requested that he write it down and hand it to him. That way he'd be able to basically monitor Castiel's every step.

"Unless you have my permission, you are supposed to come  _straight_ home!" Castiel's father exclaimed, advancing on his son.

Castiel backed up towards the fireplace. He swallowed down his fright, deciding to defend himself. "I've only been gone two hours. There's no need for you to be upset," he spoke, surprised his voice didn't waver. Mr. Novak fumed.

"This is  _my_  house!  _I make the rules!_ " the tall man yelled, shoving Castiel back by his shoulders. Castiel stumbled against the push, steadying himself and trying to keep his bravery within him. His heart was beating out of his chest- adrenaline pumped through him.

Feeling bile rise in his throat, Castiel spoke. "I understand that. I'm home, now. I've done all my chores. I've finished all my homework at the diner. I have not wasted any time so there is no reason for you to yell," the teen tried to reason, wanting more than anything just to get his father's voice to lower so the neighbors wouldn't hear- they had gotten quite a few complaints, before.

A hand gripped on tight to Castiel's arm, squeezing into muscle and making Castiel gasp. His eyes widened as they met with his father's dark ones. "I did not ask for an excuse," Mr. Novak hissed. When Castiel didn't reply, the man grew angrier. " _Did I?_ " he growled out, teeth bared and breath smelling of alcohol. Castiel tried to back away, his heart launching to his throat. Yet, he still felt the need to defend himself.

"But you-" he began to exclaim.

"Don't you talk back at me!" the drunken man yelled, loud enough to make Castiel's ears ring. He shook his son about, both hands finding purchase on Castiel's arms, gripping tight enough to leave deep bruises. His hands released, and Castiel instantly took another step back. "You're grounded! For the rest of the school year!"

Castiel's jaw dropped with shock, his eyes widening. "I didn't do anything wrong!" he yelled back, shocked with himself. This was the first time he returned his father's arguing.

But it was the wrong move. The next thing he knew, hands shoved forcefully onto his chest, knocking him back where he was met with excruciating pain on the base of his skull, followed by a sharp pain on his back once he fell. He could hear his father yelling, but he couldn't tell what the man was saying, since an insistent high-pitched ringing filled his hearing.

It was a moment later that Castiel realized he had hit his head on fireplace mantelpiece, followed by landing on the stone hearth. His back cried out with pain, and a sharp ache rushed through his head and neck, urging a headache to greet him.

Before he could assess his damage and find a way to escape from his father, the doorbell rang.

The yelling stopped, and Mr. Novak gazed with shock at the front door. His head quickly turned back to his son. He yanked him up by his arm, shoving him towards the door.

"Answer it," he murmured, giving the teen a warning glare that looked slightly foggy. Castiel figured he had lost one of his contacts.

Composing himself, Castiel made his way to the front door, taking a deep breath before he opened it.

Mrs. Madison was standing there, and she stiffened at the sight of Castiel before giving him a smile. "Hello, darling. Is your father home?" she asked, peering over Castiel's shoulder and into the house.

Castiel was shocked, but he managed to nod. "Yeah- yes, come in," he offered, hoping his father's sister would be enough of a distraction for him to get some pain medication and slip into his room.

Giving a small smile, the dark-haired lady walked in.

He could hear conversation pursue almost immediately.

"Castiel, go to your room," his father called out, sounding downright lethal.

Castiel fixed a glare on his father. "Of course. Let me get some ibuprofen. I've got a headache," he murmured, earning a threatening look from his father.

While in the kitchen, he could pick up on the siblings' conversation.

"Have you been  _drinking?_ " Mrs. Madison spoke in a hushed, angry tone.

"What are you here for, Hesther?"

Silence. Then she finally spoke.

"I swear to you, Raphael, if you've hurt him-"

"What happens between my son and I is none of your business. Now, I won't ask again:  _what are you here for?_ "

Castiel downed a pill with some water, refilling his cup before reluctantly going upstairs. The conversation faded away on the topic of drinking and responsibilities.

Once he was in his room, Castiel shut the door and made his way to the bathroom to check on himself. It turned out one of his contacts had indeed popped out, so Castiel threw his last one away, deciding to wait until next month to use his next monthly pair. He'd just wear his glasses, instead.

Propping them on the bridge of his nose, Castiel looked in the mirror, trying to decipher whether or not he had a concussion. He could count normally, and he didn't feel dizzy, so he decided that he was fine enough. A warm trickle made its way down his neck, and Castiel's fingers flew instinctively to the feeling, bringing themselves back in front of him and proving his suspicions.

Blood painted his fingertips, red and sticky. He had probably cut himself on the mantel.

Castiel cleaned himself up and changed into pajamas before heading back to his room, collapsing on his bed. He gazed up at the ceiling for a while, feeling sleepiness come before a knock sounded at his door.

Heart hammering, Castiel sat up quick, much to the protest of his throbbing head.

"Who is it?" he called out, hands beginning to shake with anticipation.

The door opened, and Mrs. Madison smiled at him from the other side. "It's just me," she reassured before stepping in, closing the door behind her. The teacher made her way over to her nephew, carefully. "I've got something for you," she informed him, reaching into her purse and pulling out a fairly thick book.

Eyes widening, Castiel accepted the paperback as it was handed to him. It was a complete set of poetry by Lord Alfred Tennyson. He looked back up at his aunt, smiling in a shocked manner. "Thank you. Why-"

"You've been doing very well," Mrs. Madison interrupted. "I thought you deserved something nice. Do you like it?"

Smiling, Castiel nodded, trying not to wince when pain shot up his neck. "Yes. Thank you- I love it," he responded honestly, thumb tracing the edge of the book instinctively.

Seeming hesitant, Mrs. Madison looked over at the door before looking back at Castiel. "Is everything alright?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed with worry. "Between your father and you? Is he treating you fine?"

Castiel swallowed, not sure what to say. He knew that if he told the truth, Mrs. Madison would be devastated. Horrible or not, Raphael was her brother. She knew what he did to Castiel. It most likely hurt her. The least Castiel could do was alleviate her stresses, somewhat.

Plastering a smile on his face, Castiel nodded (holding back a wince, yet again). "Yes, he's doing better. I was just trying to talk to him about- uhm, the drinking. He didn't do anything," Castiel reassured.

Seeming relieved, Mrs. Madison smiled before nodding. "Alright. Good. Thank you, Castiel. If… if you need anything, please call, alright?" she told him, coming over to give him a hug that sent shots of pain throughout his back.

Castiel swallowed back all remarks, though, and returned the hug, giving his aunt comforting pats on her back before letting go. "Everything is fine," he told her. "Don't worry. I'll see you on Monday."

It's easy to tell oneself not to lie. To actually do so, however, was a whole other commitment.

* * *

Luckily for Castiel, his father had to go away for the weekend for business. So he still got to hang out at Jo's house with the group like they had planned days before.

Castiel already felt better as he slid into the passenger seat of the Impala, met with a gorgeous smile from Dean and a hello kiss.

"Nice glasses," Dean remarked with a smile as they pulled away. Castiel shoved him, playfully.

"Shut up," he retorted, feeling himself blush, nonetheless. Dean gripped onto Castiel's hand, urging him back and giving him another kiss.

"I'm serious," he insisted. "I actually really like them," he admitted, adding a smile when Castiel gazed at him skeptically.

Shaking his head and letting out a laugh, Castiel reclined in his seat, shutting his eyes. "You're so strange," he teased. He relaxed for a moment. "Can we not do music, today?" Castiel asked, head humming painfully at the volume of the music, even though it really wasn't that loud.

He could practically hear Dean's confusion. "You okay?" he asked. The music turned off.

"Yes. I've just got a headache," Castiel informed the blond. He had forgotten to take medication that afternoon, and now he was regretting it. His headache was worse than before, and the whole backside of his body was sore.

A few moments later, Castiel heard a rattle noise. He peered open his eyes to see a half empty water bottle and a bottle of pills held in Dean's hand in offering.

"What's this?" Castiel asked as he accepted the pills, opening the container and placing one in his hand.

"Effective," Dean replied, raising an eyebrow before continuing driving. "It'll get rid of your headache for hours. Oh- take two," he advised.

Castiel did so, chasing down the medication with water, finishing off the drink. "Thank you," he replied. Dean smiled.

"Anytime."

They got to Jo's house right on time, and made their way to the basement under Ellen's instruction. It was late- eleven thirty, to be exact. The group had planned to have a movie night, since it'd been a while since they'd done that. Castiel didn't know if he'd be able to stay up that late- Dean's medication was already kicking in.

Upon their arrival, Dean and Castiel were met with enthusiastic greetings from the group. The noise from the TV filled the basement, and what appeared to be Forrest Gump was playing on the screen. Charlie, Chuck, and Ash were all playing with Jo's dartboard, each taking turns (it appeared that Chuck was winning massively), completely ignoring the movie. Adam and Jo were reclined on the futon, not really paying attention to the film, either. Jo's legs were draped over Adam's, her head resting against her shoulder. They were each on their phones, playing what Castiel recognized from a glance as solitaire. It seemed pretty intense, so he didn't interrupt them.

"Awesome movie, huh?" Dean called out to the group, earning a few laughs.

"Jo didn't have anything good," Charlie replied. "We've all seen this, like, a thousand times."

"I bet I can find something," Dean protested, leaving Castiel's side and heading over to the television. He instantly began browsing through Jo's movie collection.

Grabbing a ginger ale, Castiel sat down on a chair, trying not to be too obvious as he ogled at Dean's backside.

"Jo, I've gotta bring my movies over," Dean commented. "You're collection sucks."

"Tell me about it," Jo replied. "We had much better movies when we still had our VCR. Mom bought the DVD player, and now we don't have nearly as much," the blond explained, not removing her eyes from her screen.

"I've got a few DVD's," Dean spoke. "Bring me your tapes and I'll bring my DVD's."

"Yeah, alright," Jo answered distractedly. "Damnit, Adam!" she exclaimed at the same time that Adam let out a victorious whoop. Castiel took it she lost their match. "I blame Winchester!"

"You guys wanna watch  _The Matrix_?" Dean called out. Jo and Ash groaned as Charlie and Chuck sped over, taking a seat on the sofa.

Dean put the movie in, and went over to the group. He made eye contact with Castiel and hesitated before deciding it was best to sit with Chuck and Charlie. There was no doubt the group would question them if Dean were to sit on the armrest of Castiel's chair when there was more than enough room on the couch.

Castiel felt disappointed, but he pushed back the feeling. It was for the best. They couldn't know yet.

His phone buzzed.

_Dean: U should come sit with us on this couch._

Castiel glanced over at Dean, but he was watching the movie.

_Castiel: Now, now. Do not get the others suspicious._

Castiel could see Dean's phone light up, and the blond smiled at his screen as he typed back. Castiel averted his eyes to the TV until he got his next message.

_Dean: Come heeeerrree_

Before Castiel could reply, he got another text.

_Jo: You guys are so obvious, it's kinda adorable._

Castiel looked over at Jo. She was smiling to herself as she leaned against Adam, eyes glued onto the television.

_Dean: I just got a text from Jo. She caught us._

Trying not to laugh, Castiel replied.

_Castiel: Apparently we are very obvious_

_Castiel: And "adorable"_

_Castiel: Although I think she was referring to me with that part_

He could hear Dean snort, and then Charlie argue subtly with him as she asked who he was texting. Castiel stuffed his phone in his pocket so she wouldn't see it, fixing his eyes on the movie and trying not to be too "obvious".

His phone buzzed twice.

Castiel waited a moment before getting it.

_Dean: Yeah, I think so too._

_Dean: We should go upstairs. I've got a plan._

Before Castiel could reply, Dean spoke.

"I'll get some more drinks," Dean offered as he looked pointedly at Cas when the group wasn't paying attention.

Castiel got up, automatically. "I'll help you," he responded. The group made their requests, and the two teens both walked to the basement staircase, Dean grabbing Cas's hand as soon as they were out of sight of the others. He led Cas to the kitchen, pulling him by his hand as he looked around to make sure Ellen was still in her room.

When they got to the kitchen, and Castiel's heart was threatening to beat out of his chest with suspense, Dean turned around, smiling at Castiel as he held both his hands now and pulled him close.

"Hey," he greeted before placing a light kiss on Castiel's lips, making the heat of it travel down to his stomach and tingle under his skin.

When they parted their lips, Castiel smiled, moving his gaze from Dean's lips to his eyes. "Hello," he greeted back, making Dean laugh as he pulled Cas close for another kiss. "That was so fucking terrible," Castiel laughed, referring to Dean's excuse.

Dean suddenly laughed out loud, shying away from Castiel as he calmed himself. "Oh- Christ, you're right," Dean breathed out. "Shit, Cas, we gotta tell 'em."

"If they don't already know, that is," Castiel added through his smile.

Dean hummed in acknowledgement, eyes lowering back to Castiel's lips and before he knew it they were kissing, again.

"Wish we could do this all the time," Dean mumbled when they parted their lips, placing a kiss on the corner of Castiel's mouth.

A kick of butterflies started in Castiel's stomach, and he rubbed his thumbs over the tops of Dean's hands. "Me too," he responded, catching Dean's lower lip between his own as he gave him a gentle kiss. As soon as he pulled away, Dean leaned in and kissed him longer, tongue reaching out to trace Castiel's lip and taste him- a shy suggestion of more before he pulled away.

"They're gonna be waiting for those drinks," Dean pointed out, earning an eyeroll from Castiel.

"They can wait," he spoke thickly, reaching up to kiss Dean, again. Dean let out a surprised yet satisfied noise as he kissed him back, smiling into the kiss.

Dean squeezed Castiel's hands slightly, placing them on his sides as he reached up to fist Castiel's hair in his hands.

When they parted their lips, Dean went back in for more.

"If you guys wanted to make out then you might as well have told me so I could get the drinks," Jo interrupted, making the two boys pull away from each other with shock as they looked at her with wide eyes. Jo raised an eyebrow, a smile on her lips. "C'mon," she began. "Like I didn't know what you two would be doing up here."

Dean and Cas were blushing furiously, unable to say a word as Jo went to the fridge to retrieve a few packs of sodas. "We, uh, we were about to get those," Dean told her, scratching at the back of his neck.

Jo laughed. "Yeah, I could see that," she commented. "Y'know," she began as she eyed her friends. "If you guys want some time alone, I could give everyone an excuse," she offered. "Tell them you guys had to go," she elaborated.

Dean looked at Cas, and they both shared the same thought. Castiel's heart leaped at the look in Dean's eyes.

They were going to tell them.

Dean smiled, shaking his head. "Nah. We'll stay here," he replied, taking the drinks from Jo.

Shrugging, Jo followed the boys into the basement.

After returning to their seats, Castiel waited in anticipation. He kept glancing at Dean over and over, but the blond never looked back- his mind seemed occupied.

The last thing he expected was exactly what Dean did.

"So," he spoke, loud enough for the group to hear over the movie. "Cas and I are dating," he announced, earning everyone's attention instantly.

It was silent.

Castiel's heart was hammering.

Then the silence broke.

" _I knew it!_ " Charlie exclaimed, seeming very excited at the news.

"Called it," Ash spoke.

Dean and Cas gazed at their friends, then looked at one another with wide eyes.

"You… all knew?" Castiel asked, surprised he could even speak.

"You guys make googly eyes at each other every day," Charlie pointed out with an adoring smile. "We kinda picked up on it."

"We agreed we'd wait for you guys to tell us," Adam added with a sympathetic smile.

Dean's eyebrow rose, and he made a face as he processed the news. "Huh," he finally spoke. "Well, in that case-"

And then Dean was up and at Castiel's chair in a moment, squeezing in next to him in the tight space. His hands cradled Castiel's face and then they were kissing- freely, happily, relief flowing through the air, mingling with the initial buzz of electricity Castiel always felt when they kissed.

The dark-haired teen was shocked with everything, but he found himself calming down in Dean's embrace, and his hand sat in its place on Dean's shoulder, gripping onto him tight- using him as his anchor.

Charlie "awww"ed and Ash told them to get a room. But all Castiel could really focus on was the pure wave of euphoria that rushed through him- the heat that engulfed his belly and tingled in his cheeks.

When they pulled away, Dean gazed into Castiel's eyes before he smiled brightly. Castiel breathed in slowly, returning the gesture and shying away from Dean's bright eyes. He looked at his friends, and suddenly it felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Adam, Jo, Ash and Chuck were smiling widely, and Charlie was making comments about how happy she was for them.

They knew. They finally knew.

Castiel let out a laugh, letting his head fall onto Dean's chest as he curled into him. Dean's arm wrapped around him, hand twining with Castiel's own as he drew him closer. He could feel Dean's cheek settle on top of his head. A rush of excitement filled Castiel- enhanced by Dean's warmth and smell and touch. Everything was okay. They were okay.

One secret down.

 _That's a start_ , Castiel thought as he felt his eyes droop. He finally gave in to the medicine, falling asleep to the beat of Dean's heart against his ear.

* * *

When Castiel woke up, it was to Dean's voice. He was being shaken, gently, and once he sat up he realized everyone was asleep.

"Hey," Dean spoke, smiling when Castiel faced him. "Jo set up air mattresses, earlier- I didn't wanna wake you. You okay to get up?" 

Castiel processed everything Dean said, nodding as he untangled himself from the blond. "M'gonna get changed," Castiel murmured, searching blindly for his backpack before Dean handed it to him.

He went to the bathroom to prepare himself for bed.

Castiel's back had been reduced to a dull ache, but he knew that bruises still laid there. It would take a while for them to heal. From what Castiel had seen in the morning, they had been deep. He knew it'd be a painful recovery.

Castiel brushed his teeth before he shed off his clothes, pulling on sweatpants.

He was pulling on his nightshirt when Dean knocked and walked in.

"Hey, I need to-"

Castiel pulled his shirt down, fast, concealing the bruises. But Dean had already seen them. He was shocked still- eyes wide.

"Dean," Castiel began, feeling his stomach do nervous flops at the lack of reaction.

"How did you get those?" Dean asked, setting down his toothbrush on the counter as he made his way to Castiel. He seemed wary, his face cautious as his fingers settled on the hem of Castiel's shirt. Castiel stiffened, his heart racing with fear. Before he could stop him, Dean lifted up the fabric slightly so he could examine the bruises, fingers fluttering lightly over the purpled flesh.

"It's nothing," Castiel assured, yanking down his shirt. "I fell, yesterday- tripped over the carpet and hit the fireplace," the teen lied.

It scared him, how easy it was to lie to Dean.

Dean searched Castiel's eyes. Castiel knew that Dean didn't believe him. But he didn't say it. He didn't call out the lie.

"Those are deep bruises," he observed.

Castiel shrugged, attempting a laugh. "I fell down hard. You already know I'm clumsy," he attempted to joke.

The bathroom seemed to be getting smaller and smaller.

Dean deflated, seeming upset. "Yeah… sure."

Licking his lips, Castiel gave a nod. "Well… goodnight," he spoke before rushing out the bathroom.

Although he slept beside Dean, it was not a good night's sleep.

* * *

Dean was emotionally confused, to say the least.

He supposed that was nothing new.

The night at Jo's had been a mix of emotions: fear, happiness, relief- then, finally, a little bit of anger with a tad of disappointment.

Castiel still felt the need to hide things from Dean. After everything they had been through, Castiel still felt he couldn't trust him.

And that pissed Dean off, and made him kinda sad at the same time.

The way Castiel had blatantly lied- right in Dean's  _face_ , at that- was awful. It hurt. Those bruises had not been an accident, that much Dean could tell.

No… somebody had put those there.

Was it Alastair? But when would he have been able to do that?  _What was Castiel keeping secret?_

Dean tried to tell himself that this whole thing was bigger than he was. He tried to assure himself that there was more to it, that Castiel would tell him when he was ready. But he was tired of waiting. He was tired of feeling helpless when Castiel could be getting hurt. He was tired of Castiel not trusting him enough to even tell him what he was thinking.

Cas had said it, himself. He said they needed to work on their communication.

So, why wasn't he trying?

Those thoughts swirled through Dean's head as he laid beside Castiel, listening to the snoring of his friends and trying to let it lull him to sleep. He wasn't sure if Castiel was even sleeping. The teen was eerily still.

Sighing, Dean turned to his side, facing Castiel. The small figure didn't move.

"Cas?" Dean whispered.

He could detect a stiffening of the shape under the quilt that laid over them. He didn't say anything, though. If Castiel didn't feel like talking, that was fine.

After a moment, Castiel turned to face Dean. His blue eyes captured Dean's for a moment, and then they were gone as Castiel moved forward and buried his head in Dean's chest, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Dean was surprised, to say the least. But he gave in, holding Castiel and bringing him close. No words had to be exchanged. Dean knew what Castiel meant.

He'd explain everything, soon. Castiel would let him know in his own time.

Dean knew he'd have to wait.


	33. No More Barriers

Everybody knows, of course, that secrets can't be kept forever.

Castiel knew that. In fact, that exact thought was what haunted him every night before he fell asleep. Lying and hiding enormous parts of one's life tended to become a heavy burden. Those lies just piled up, and then more lies would be required in order to keep the continuity of the original lies. Then one thing after another would happen, and reality would eventually be confused and distorted among the vast amount of stories that had been constructed.

Every single day since Castiel met Dean and the group, he had felt his burden grow heavier and heavier. He didn't know when he'd confess the nature of his lies. At this point, he felt too deep in to just go back and reveal that everything he had gotten the group to believe about him had been a lie the entire time.

He told Jo about the cutting. That had been inevitable. And, so far, Jo helped him stray away from harming himself. He was sure things would have been far more awful if she hadn't been there for him.

But telling her had been one of the scariest things Castiel ever had to do. It was indescribable. He felt ashamed- embarrassed and weak and stupid. He kept telling himself it was pointless, that she either wouldn't care or she'd call him a freak.

Although things turned out well, Castiel wasn't sure how the others would take it. Jo had experienced this before. That gave him leeway- he had the advantage. It wouldn't be the same with the others. They wouldn't understand.

Neither would Dean. He couldn't, there was no way he'd comprehend why Castiel did the things he did. He wouldn't understand why Castiel cut and hurt himself. It was insane- he was scary. He would scare everyone away.

His relationship with Dean was finally going well. They were content and  _happy_. The last thing he wanted to do was screw up one of the few good things he had going on. How would Dean react if he found out? Castiel couldn't help but think Dean would be mad- no,  _pissed_. He couldn't help but think that Dean wouldn't be able to see things the way Jo did.

What if he was disgusted?

What if he never wanted to see Castiel, again?

And worst of all… what if he didn't care? What if seeing Castiel's scars only ruined Dean's image of Castiel?

Castiel wouldn't be able to live without Dean. He had done it before, yes, but after having things so easy for him… he'd be too soft. He wouldn't be able to toughen himself up for the life he had, before. All those calluses had worn off- they were gone and now Castiel had no armor to protect himself. The teen would surely break apart on his own.

He didn't have time to think about it, though.

After Dean had seen the bruises, Castiel could feel his concern. He could tell how much Dean wanted to reach out, and how hurt he felt when Castiel rejected his advances. The look in his eyes was one Castiel could never forget.

This was not how their relationship should go. Castiel knew that, now.

So, without an ounce of hesitation, on Sunday afternoon Castiel made his way to Dean's house. They hadn't been talking much since yesterday, and during that small break Castiel had plenty of time to think to himself about what to do.

He was going to tell Dean. It was time for the last of his barriers to go down- the ones Castiel has been building since his mother died. Since the first moment he picked up that razor blade.

These were the barriers that protected him from his father and bullies and his own mind. It had leaked, often, but it was the only thing that kept him sane throughout all these years.

Tearing it down- just for one person, at that- was the scariest thing Castiel would ever have to do.

But it wasn't just a person. This was Dean. Dean cared about Castiel. He wouldn't hurt him, no matter what Castiel's mind tried to tell him. He would never do something like that.

And all Castiel could do was pray that was true.

* * *

Dean had been reclining on the couch with Sammy and watching a program when the doorbell rang. The brothers weren't expecting anyone, it had been a pretty uneventful day filled with takeout and crappy Sunday channels (they settled with some cheesy ABC Family movie).

The last thing Dean expected was seeing Castiel at the door- looking a lifetime less than okay. The teen appeared tired, like he hadn't had sound sleep in ages. He wasn't wearing a jacket, although it had been a particularly chilly March day.

Dean instantly thought back to when he had given Castiel that letter- when Cas had shown up here, and they finally made up. He had looked equally distressed, then. There was no telling what news Castiel had for him.

"Hey," Dean spoke, recovering from his initial shock. "Come in," he offered, opening the door wider.

Castiel hesitated, looking around before stepping into the house. He didn't speak.

Dean's heart hiked up to his throat in anticipation. "Uh- you want some takeout? Sammy and I have some left over," Dean spoke, beginning to lead Castiel to the living room before he noticed the dark-haired teen wasn't following him.

When Dean looked over at him, Castiel shook his head. "I need to tell you something," he spoke, cutting right to the chase.

Dean gazed at Castiel. Right when he was about to speak, Sam called from the living room.

"Dean? Who is it?"

Dean unwound himself a bit before he answered his brother. "It's just Cas," he called back, turning towards the living room and beckoning Castiel to follow him. "We're gonna head to my room for a bit. Be right back."

Sammy let out a noise of acknowledgement, and then Dean was leading Castiel to his room, his heart pounding and his mind racing with thoughts of worst case scenarios. Needless to say, by the time they were in his room with the door closed (Dean noticed Castiel locked it), Dean was a nervous wreck.

Castiel went and sat on Dean's bed, so Dean followed suit, sitting in front of him- keeping a good distance. That was when he finally spoke. "So, what's up?" he asked, breaking the tension for a moment.

Castiel worked his lower lip, looking anywhere but at Dean. After a moment, he finally replied. "I need to show you something."

Feeling his heart stop, Dean nodded. Was it the bruises? Was he going to tell Dean what happened? "Alright," he uttered.

Castiel looked up, then, making eye contact with Dean for the first time since he arrived. Dean was enraptured for a moment- Castiel's blue eyes seemed so intense… so serious. For that moment, Dean was more terrified than he ever remembered being. Then the look was gone, and Castiel was just as blank as before. The dark-haired teen drew his lips into a line before he slid off his sweater.

What Dean saw was the last thing he expected.

What appeared to be dozens of scars marked Castiel's arms. sliced horizontally across them. The scars on the lower half of Castiel's arms were light- purposefully thin yet still easy to see. The blended in with his arms, hardly there at all.

It was Castiel's upper arms that took the most damage.

His biceps were laced with rugged marks of deep, thick cuts, most of them going as far as Castiel's shoulder, somewhere a t-shirt could easily hide them.

Dean was speechless. He felt cold and shocked and he couldn't breathe  _and he didn't know what to do._  Castiel wasn't looking up at him- he seemed too scared, his head lowered and lips pressed together.

He had to say something. He had to  _do_ something.

But what?

Castiel was shaking, now, and Dean felt his heart tear.

"Cas," he gasped in, realizing he had been holding his breath.

Castiel didn't respond. He just curled into himself and tried to calm down, his hands curled into fists, knuckles white. Dean swallowed back a lump in his throat, wanting to reach out but too scared- too unsure.

When Castiel let out a wet gasp, Dean suddenly reached forward, hugging him close and tightening his grip when Castiel resisted slightly.

"It's okay," he found himself murmuring, hand rubbing soothing circles where bruises didn't lay. He could see them- dark shades standing out on the smooth canvas of Castiel's skin. "I've got you, it's okay," Dean murmured into the teen's neck, splaying his hand on Castiel's back, now. Castiel let out a sob at Dean's voice, and Dean's eyes shut closed when he felt them burn. He brought him closer. "It's okay," he spoke, again, this time clearer.

Castiel was crying more, now- restrained sort of gasps that were choked and shaken. He shook his head in Dean's grasp, letting out heaving breaths to prevent more sobs. He didn't speak. He couldn't, Dean supposed. Every time it looked like he tried, a choked sound would come out, instead, instantly quieted as Castiel closed his mouth, tight.

Dean pulled away, hands gripping lightly onto Castiel's arms. When he flinched, Dean looked down.

That's when he noticed the bruises, shaped like hands and winding around Castiel's arms.

Dean felt sick to his stomach.

"Cas," he spoke. The teen didn't respond- didn't look up. "Cas, please," Dean begged, voice shaking. "Look at me."

Castiel shook his head vigorously, refusing. So Dean reached out, gently taking Castiel's face in one hand, rubbing a thumb over his cheek and wiping his tears as he tried to soothe the teen. It made Castiel cry more, at first, but after a while he began to calm. When Castiel's sobs had quieted, Dean raised his face, meeting his eyes.

That was when Castiel finally talked.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to remove his face from Dean's hand. Dean was persistent- he kept their eye contact.

"Don't apologize. Do I look like I'm mad?" Dean asked. At Castiel's hesitance, he sighed. "I'm not mad," he spoke. "I'm not upset with you," he added, for further measure. "I just…" he didn't know what to say, now. Feeling frustrated with himself, Dean racked his brain. "Why?" he ended up asking.

Castiel removed himself from Dean, now, wiping his tears. "I don't know," he admitted. "It started so long ago. I forgot."

Dean was silent. He waited for Castiel to collect himself- to let it all out.

"I was sad," Castiel spoke. "I was mad at myself- for what I did to my mom, and my family," Castiel choked out. "I wanted punishment."

Dean was confused. He was scared and worried and he did _not_  like the things Castiel was telling him. Seeing those scars cover his arms, and fresh bruises accompanying them, it set a spark of anger within him. Dean wanted so destroy whoever hurt Castiel, he wanted the culprit to suffer everything Castiel suffered.

Taking a moment to collect himself, Dean's hands lightly placed themselves over the hand marks that bruised Castiel's skin. He could feel the teen's muscles tense underneath him, and Dean had to take a deep breath to calm himself.

"Who did it?" Dean asked, voice stiff. They were big marks- not ones Alastair could make. Things were starting to become really clear.

"Dean," Castiel spoke, voice small.

Dean felt his heart grow cold. He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe how  _blind_  he'd been. How the man hurting Castiel had been right under his nose- how Dean had been taking him back to the house where all this took place, day after day, without a second thought. How he  _hadn't found it out sooner_. With Castiel's confession about his mother- how he explained that it was his own fault. How he had told Dean- that  _very first day_ that his house "wasn't as nice on the inside". How he had seemed so scared to go back into it.

It was so obvious. Yet, Dean didn't expect it. He  _still_ couldn't believe it.

Castiel was being abused by his father.

And, now, everything seemed clear. When Castiel had passed out at school- how he had told Dean he  _couldn't_  eat. How, later on that day, he had seemed so terrified while on the phone with his dad. Then there were the black eyes and bruises that Dean was so sure Alastair had caused, that he had been  _convinced_ were because of the bullying. The way Castiel seemed so nervous- so downright  _terrified_ when his father had asked to meet Dean. How Castiel had explained that his father blamed him for everything- for his mother's death.

It all made sense.

"Oh my god," Dean whispered, his grip loosening. He felt dizzy- shocked with all this news and information.

"Dean,  _please_ ," Castiel cried, now. "It's not what you think-"

"Then what the hell is it?" Dean bit back harshly, standing on his feet, now. Castiel's eyes widened, and he gazed up at Dean, frozen in his spot. "Why the hell would you let him do that to you?" Dean questioned, keeping his voice just below a yell. Dean tried to calm himself, but he couldn't. He was too angry at himself for not knowing sooner. He was angry at Castiel's father for doing this. And he was angry at Castiel for not doing anything to help himself.

"H-he didn't mean to," Castiel tried. "He was drunk- he didn't mean to hurt me," the teen defended.

Dean began pacing sharply, trying to think of something to say. Castiel watched him as he did so, wary with every movement. Feeling irritated with not knowing what to say, Dean walked towards Castiel as he paced, hand instinctively raising to run through his hair as he tried to calm himself.

He didn't expect Castiel's reaction.

The teen gave a sharp gasp, arms shooting up to guard his face as he flinched away hard, curling in on himself.

Dean's heart shattered, and he grew ice cold.

"Cas- oh, god, Cas," Dean spoke, kneeling in front of the teen and gently taking his arms. "Fuck," Dean murmured, feeling frantic. "I'm so sorry- I didn't mean, I wasn't-"

Castiel lowered his arms, slowly. He was pale, frightened, and overall astonished-looking. Dean watched him carefully. "I'm sorry," Castiel murmured, eyes glazed with tears. "I…" he broke off, gaze averting to the ground.

Dean gathered Castiel in his arms, squeezing him tight, and stilling his shaking. They didn't speak- no words were exchanged, and no eye contact was made. They expressed what they needed to through that embrace. Castiel's fingers gripped into Dean's shirt at the sides, the coldness of his hands seeping through the material and making Dean shiver.

He pulled away, moving his hands to Castiel's arms where he gripped gently. The scars and bruises stood out, making Dean's blood boil with pent up rage. He wanted to make Castiel's father pay. He wanted him to suffer just as much as Castiel had.

But he knew he couldn't do that. For now, he could help Castiel through his. He could help him as much as possible.

He could try to convince Castiel to tell the police. He could let him know he'd be there by his side.

Their eyes met, and Dean gazed intensely at the dark-haired teen. "You don't need to hide anything from me," Dean assured. He swallowed, trying to find the right words to say."You don't need to feel guilty. This doesn't change… it doesn't change us- or what I think of you. It doesn't change who you are."

Castiel looked lost in Dean's eyes, frantically searching them- as if he were trying to find confirmation in what Dean had said.

So he continued.

"We… we all have our battles, okay? How you dealt with yours… it's okay. I understand. I just- I don't want you hurting yourself, anymore. Alright? I- everyone- we're all here for you, and you don't have to do this alone," Dean assured, being sure not to tighten his grip as he tried not to lose himself. He took a deep breath, and when Castiel finally relaxed in his grip Dean allowed himself to unwind, as well. "You're the strongest person I know, Cas," Dean murmured, trying to keep their eye contact.

That's when Castiel cried, again.

They weren't terrible gasps, like before. He didn't struggle to breathe or calm himself. This time, Dean felt his heart swell with relief when Castiel gave him a quivering smile as his eyes overflowed with tears and he bowed his head.

"Thank you," he whispered, making a move to remove his arm from Dean so he could wipe his tears. But Dean beat him to it, cleaning Castiel's face of the streaks and then placing one solid kiss on each of Castiel's arms. That only made Castiel cry harder as he jerked his arms away to wrap them around Dean, pulling him into a hug that deceived his tiny stature. And they remained like that, arms around one another as Castiel tried to stop his tears and Dean tried not to let his own out.

When Castiel sunk with fatigue into Dean's chest, the blond gently pried him away, grabbing Castiel's sweater and pulling it back onto the teen. "Hey, get some rest, okay?" Dean instructed, easing Castiel down. He complied, nodding and looking completely wrecked- hair a mess, nose and cheeks red and eyes swollen. Castiel kicked off his shoes, and Dean pulled the covers over the teen. "I'll check up on you in a bit," he promised, receiving a groan in response.

Castiel fell asleep immediately.

* * *

When Dean had eventually gained enough composure to head back to the living room, Sammy was still sitting there. It seemed so strange that the rest of the house was exactly the same when so much had happened in Dean's room, merely minutes ago.

Trying to put on a straight face, Dean spoke up as he reached the couch.

"Alright, scoot, jerkface," he ordered as he grabbed the remote from Sammy, plopping down on the couch unnecessarily close just to annoy the preteen. "Show your elders some respect."

He earned bitchface number twelve in return. "You scoot, asshat," he retorted, sitting stubbornly in his place in the middle of the couch- the comfiest spot since it was the squishiest and most sunk in.

Dean changed the channel, looking for something they could watch. It was silent for a moment before Sam spoke.

"Hey, Dean?" he began, seeming hesitant.

"Yeah?" Dean acknowledged, still flipping through the channels as he tried to brush away all thoughts of what had just happened.

"Are you and Cas dating?"

Dean froze, and as much as he tried to form a nonchalant expression, he knew Sammy had caught him. He looked at his little brother, incredulously. Before he could speak, Sammy was talking, again, a smile on his face.

"It's okay, you know. I like Cas- he's nice," the younger Winchester assured.

Dean was still shocked. "How did you-"

"Come on," Sam interrupted, a smirk on his face. "I know you better than anybody."

That was true. But it still didn't excuse the fact that Dean felt like he had just gotten hit by a train. "Uh... yeah, Cas and I are dating," Dean decided to admit.

Sam's smile brightened. "Good."

Dean couldn't help but smile at that, and he elbowed Sammy before he spoke. "Alright, shut up, I wanna watch," he ordered before switching the channel.

They didn't speak further on the matter. They didn't have to. Sammy understood him far more than anybody ever could. Sometimes he understood him more than Dean understood himself. They were close like that.

And now Dean felt like new, sitting next to his brother with a crappy film flickering on their television and the smell of Chinese takeout filling the room. Despite the worries that nagged at him- the thoughts of Castiel's father, and all that the two were sure to face- Dean felt content.

* * *

Castiel ended up sleeping the rest of the day and night. He could faintly remember Dean trying to wake him, urging him to sit in the living room with him and Sam. Castiel had refused, though, and later Dean ended up sliding into bed with him, his warmth pressing against Castiel and chasing away the remnants of a nightmare he had been having.

He didn't remember what it was about. But, for some strange reason, it left him feeling empty. Lonely. Scared. Previous fears arose within him.

Losing everybody.

Losing his mind.

Being alone.

But he  _wasn't_ alone. Dean had told him that.

So Castiel kept that in mind as he earned his much needed rest, snuggling up against the solid figure next to him until an alarm blared and roused him from his warm haven. Dean had put it on snooze three times, returning his arm around Castiel and murmuring something about having plenty of time. Castiel didn't feel the need to complain. It was nice, snug up against Dean, pressing his forehead against his chest and feeling the beat of his heart. The covers practically engulfed Castiel, the top of his head the only thing visible. It was warm and safe and nice.

Then Sam knocked on the door, telling them it was seven forty-five.

Dean and Castiel scrambled out of bed, tangled in one another before landing in a heap on the floor. Dean then proceeded to get changed while Castiel assessed where he was and what the heck he needed from his house. After forcing Castiel to eat three granola bars, Dean hightailed it to Castiel's home, where the dark-haired teen quickly changed his shirt and grabbed his backpack. Then they practically sped to school, dropping off Sammy and making it to homeroom only five minutes late. Dean bragged about it being a record, but all Castiel could focus on was being marked tardy by their homeroom teacher. How many times was that, now? He had lost count. By the fifth one a call home would be required.

Castiel hoped his father wouldn't find out.

Dean didn't treat Castiel much differently, after the events of last night. Besides comforting brushes of his fingers and certain looks, things went about normally. In fact, the day had gone pretty nice, and when Castiel found himself at the end of his last class, he was downright happy.

That was until Mrs. Madison had called him up to the front.

Dean raised an eyebrow at the look on Castiel's face. "I'll wait outside?" he asked, under his breath.

Castiel nodded before making his way to his aunt.

Once Dean was outside the room, Castiel spoke. "Yes?" he inquired, nervous and wanting to go home.

The teacher gave an easy smile. "I was wondering if you'd like to come home with me, this Friday. It's been a while since you've visited," she inquired.

Castiel was shocked, to say the least. He hadn't been to his aunt's house since his mom died. He didn't even know what to say.

But the look in his aunt's eyes didn't really give him much of an option.

With a smile, Castiel nodded. "Yes, of course. That's fine."

The teacher's eyes brightened, and she gave a big grin. "Wonderful. I'll let your father know."

For once in his life, Castiel hoped his father wouldn't let him go out.


	34. A Cross

Castiel traced his fingers over the book in his hand, pressing into the markings of the title.

He hadn't picked it up since Dean returned it to him. It was almost funny, how that worked.

Only a few months ago, this book was Castiel's anchor. It was what kept him sane while, at the same time, drove him to his breaking point.

Dean was sort of like that, in a way. He broke Castiel- his previous self. Dean shattered him to pieces. But he didn't leave him to mend himself. Not like this book had. No- Dean picked up those pieces and put them together into something new. Someone who wouldn't panic at the contact of another person. Someone who wouldn't think that there was evil in everyone.

Someone who could start to believe in good, again.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel opened the book, looking at the note scrawled inside the cover.

It was still there. No matter what happened- no matter how much Castiel has changed- that note would forever remain. It would serve as a symbol of his weakness- of who he once was.

Of what he almost tried to do.

Castiel's fingers grew shaky as they hovered over the writing, not daring to touch it.

There was no changing who he was, in the end. He could cover it up as much as he liked- hide it with smiles and friends and promises of getting better. But before he went to sleep the voices always spoke- always reminded him of what he did to himself.

Of what he did to his mother.

His phone buzzed with a text, and Castiel jumped in his seat on his bed, startled. He quickly checked the time before grabbing his bag, stuffing the book under his mattress, and bounding down the stairs.

Mr. Novak was back home, and he simply gazed after Castiel as the teen went to the door.

"Be home by seven," his father warned.

Surprised, Castiel's hand froze on the doorknob. He turned to face his father. "What?" he asked, speechless.

The older man looked irritated. "I'm establishing a curfew for school nights. Be back by seven or we can go back to my deal on grounding you,  _is that clear?_ " he asked.

Smiling, Castiel let out a breath of relief. "Yes. Yes, sir. I'll be back by seven," he replied, going through the door before his father could change his mind.

He was so ecstatic that he didn't even stop Dean from giving him a morning kiss.

Right in front of Sammy.

The breath was practically knocked out of him as his eyes widened, and he looked back at the younger Winchester. Sam didn't look phased.

"Oh- shit, Cas, I didn't tell you," Dean began, laughing when Castiel gave him a bewildered look.

"I already know," Sam finished for his brother, giving Castiel a reassuring smile.

Castiel let out the breath he was holding, and his heart calmed slightly. He had no words, so he just sunk into his seat, trying to process the information.

"Christ, I'm sorry," Dean laughed as he pulled the car out the driveway. "I just- so much happened, I forgot to tell you."

Castiel returned the laugh, although his own was shaky. "How long have you known?" he asked Sam.

The teen gave a smile. "Well, probably before you guys even knew. But I only told Dean on Sunday."

Castiel laughed again, this time more carefree. "God, Dean, did everyone know except us?" he asked.

Dean smiled slightly, not taking his eyes off the road. "Seems so."

It was silent for a moment.

"You're still gonna be my tutor, right?" Sam spoke up, earning a laugh from Castiel and a snort from Dean.

"Of course."

* * *

Castiel spent most of the school day worrying. On top of his "appointment" with Mrs. Madison on Friday, Castiel had to worry about his father, and Alastair, and when or where he'd be safe,  _and_  working at the diner.

Not to mention keeping his grades up to satisfy his father.

He was currently slipping to a ninety on Chemistry, and that stress alone was giving him ulcers and migraines of a lifetime. The others didn't understand. When Castiel refused to eat during lunch, and instead chose to spend his time with his notes and textbook, they all gazed at him as if he were crazy.

"You've got an A," Ash had pointed out through a mouthful of pizza. "There's nothing to worry about."

The rest of the table voiced their agreements.

But at the look on Castiel's face, Dean suddenly knew. So, when Castiel was in the middle of solving his twelfth mole equation, Dean had placed his hand on Castiel's knee to get his attention. When Castiel paused for a moment, Dean offered up half his sandwich.

"You need to eat if you wanna study efficiently," the blond had pointed out, placing the sandwich on Castiel's book when he didn't accept it right away.

That was it. Nothing more. No telling Castiel that he didn't have to worry, or that a ninety was fine. He  _understood_. He knew what Castiel was going through.

So the dark-haired teen ate the sandwich, despite the burning in his stomach and the bile in his throat. All the while, Dean's foot interlocked with Castiel's- a constant reassurement.

By the time school was over, Castiel wanted nothing more than to go home and do some studying and then get his well-earned sleep, despite his loose curfew. But Dean had eventually convinced Castiel to come over, saying some excuse about studying for history class or something.

When Castiel was seated in the Impala and they drove past Sam's school, he knew what was really going on.

"Aren't we getting Sam?" Castiel asked.

Dean shook his head, glancing at Castiel to give him a smile. "Sam's getting a ride with Andy. They're hanging out at his place."

A small smile curled Castiel's lips, despite his efforts to hide it. "Oh," he replied nonchalantly. "Alright."

When they got to the condo, they decided to study in the living room. Castiel had even laid out his things, completely intent on trying to focus and get some work done.

But that was hard to do when he could feel Dean's eyes on him every time he looked away.

Or when he noticed how Dean's t-shirt clung amazingly to his frame, outlining his shoulders, and defining the dips and curves of his muscles.

This combined with the agonizing silence was what slowly drove Castiel to the edge of his hormonal-inflicted patience.

When was the last time they kissed? A proper kiss- not just a quick peck when nobody was looking. Not a kiss that they had to do quick- with an air of worry draping over them. That question kept running through Castiel's head, and he found he was studying Dean's lips far more than his history book.

After what was probably only ten minutes, Castiel spoke up.

" _So_ ," he spoke, drawing out the word. "How long will Sam be gone?" he asked innocently, glancing up at Dean through his lashes and noticing the tint of pink that highlighted the blond's cheeks.

Dean seemed panicked.

"Uh- he should be out a few hours," Dean answered. His eyes flickered to Castiel's lips so fast the teen was sure he had seen wrong.

But he knew that wasn't true.

Giving a smile, Castiel picked up their books, putting them aside. Dean stiffened, green eyes transfixed onto Castiel. The dark-haired teen laughed before grabbing Dean's hand and pulling him near.

"Come here," he spoke under his breath, feeling an air of relief when Dean complied, smiling in return. When they were merely an inch apart, Dean glanced down then leaned forward, placing a kiss on Castiel's lips. It was a long, soft kiss, and it had Castiel yearning for more.

Dean slowly eased Castiel down onto the couch, adjusting their pace as his hands explored Castiel's arms, running up and down in smooth strides, fingers gripping gently- memorizing his shape.

Their lips slid into one another easily- fitting perfectly. They kissed in slow and practiced motions, Dean leading the way- cradling Castiel's lips gently and being sure not to advance too much too soon. He was incredibly soft with Castiel, handling him like fine glass. It remained like that for a while, until Castiel looked to quicken it- impatiently moving about, and wanting more from Dean. It made their pattern clumsy for a moment, but Dean quickly got the hint, pulling away to murmur an apology through smiling lips before he was back and eagerly giving Castiel what they both craved.

It wasn't flawless kissing, if Castiel was going to be honest. Noses bumped as heads tilted, and their breaths mingled, puffing out with hot gusts of air as the teens looked to resume their kisses, rearranging themselves to accompany one another's various movements. Their teeth clinked as they laughed, and their arms tangled amongst one another as they tried to search for a comfortable position.

But, given the fact that Castiel was an amateur and Dean was a nervous wreck, they could've been doing worse.

Pretty soon they got comfortable, their arms looping in the perfect position, sinking into couch cushions and resting on shoulders and sides. Dean had positioned himself between Castiel's legs, their hips connecting and sending an electric heat through Castiel's groin. Dean's elbows, propped on the couch, kept him hovering just barely above Castiel's chest. Castiel laid himself completely back on the couch, deciding that the armrest was not a very comfortable prop.

Then, after all the awkward adjustments were made and both the boys were bright red, having their fair share of awkward laughs, they deemed themselves both comfy enough to continue kissing.

Dean skipped going slow- just getting straight to it as he pried through Castiel's lips and mouth with his tongue after a few soft kisses- tasting and feeling him as Castiel did the same back. They were passionate, somewhat messy kisses driven by teenage hormones and a hell of a lot of impatience. Dean's hands fumbled with Castiel's hoodie, and he parted their lips as he looked into Castiel's eyes, his own pupil-blown and searching for permission.

With a nod, Castiel helped Dean remove the pesky garment, and it quickly joined their abandoned books on the floor.

When Dean examined Castiel's top, he gave an irritated groan.

"Fuck's sake, Cas, I hate that shirt," he spoke, giving Castiel another kiss.

Worried, Castiel parted their lips, observing Dean's eyes before looking down at his shirt then back up. "What's wrong with it?" he asked, feeling self-conscious.

Dean laughed, leaning forward and letting their foreheads touch as he tamed his smile. "Fucking blue button up. Making your goddamn eyes even bluer," he complained as he gave Castiel a kiss. "Y'always fucking unbutton the first two buttons," he added, making Castiel blush as Dean leaned down to kiss at the part of his neck and collarbones that were exposed. "Seducing me every time you wear it, and you don't even have to try," Dean spoke into Castiel's skin. "It's not fair. You and that fucking shirt."

Castiel found it in himself to laugh, now, despite the fact that he was extremely turned on by Dean's low tone, and extremely awkward. "You want me to take it off?" Castiel teased, although the joking tone was useless since his voice quivered, and his hand shook in Dean's hair.

" _God_ , yes," Dean replied, hands already sliding up to the first button where it teased at the edge of it, tracing the round curve of plastic.

Letting out a soft moan, Castiel's hands placed themselves onto Dean's jaw, leading him up so he could kiss him as Dean's deft fingers undid one button. Castiel kissed him harshly, pushing up into him, lifting their hips so they bumped together before he ground himself into Dean. This urged a content sound from the blond- a deep hum that sank into Castiel's lips, tingling them before Dean licked away the feeling.

Castiel parted their lips, moving his own to Dean's jaw and down to his neck, placing soft kisses there which Dean leaned slightly into, letting out moans of approval which drove Castiel to what he really wanted to do.

During their experience in the janitor's closet, Dean had left a mark on Castiel's neck. He had enough knowledge from being around the group to know it was a hickey. Luckily, it had been low enough for him to hide underneath a collar.

But now Castiel wanted to give one to Dean. One he couldn't cover up.

He was nervous, though. He'd never really done this sort of thing, and he didn't know if Dean even wanted him to. So he hesitated at the spot on Dean's neck he had been aiming for, right beneath his jaw. He worked at him, kissing that spot gently- letting his teeth scrape lightly against it and summoning a shiver from Dean.

"Damnit, Cas," Dean panted out, hands fisting into Castiel's hair. "Just do it," he whispered, his voice sounding on the brink of begging.

Castiel smiled before he kissed harder, doing what Dean had done to him. Judging by the way Dean nosed himself into Castiel's hair and let out encouraging noises, Castiel figured he was doing well. He kissed and sucked that spot until it complied, growing redder and redder. Before Castiel pulled away, he licked the patch of skin, earning a buck of Dean's hips in return.

"God, Cas," Dean breathed in, reaching down to claim his lips. His fingers went back to work at Castiel's shirt, slipping the next button free and reaching a hand underneath the opening in the fabric to run along Castiel's skin. Goosebumps rose as Dean's fingernails scraped lightly, and Castiel let out an encouraging moan when Dean ran the pad of his thumb over his nipple.

" _Dean_ ," Castiel managed to groan once Dean parted their lips, latching his own onto Castiel's neck. "Take it off,  _please_ ," he panted.

Just as Dean's fingers resumed unbuttoning Castiel's top, the sound of a key fitting into a lock interrupted them. Dean froze, pulling away slightly and meeting Castiel's confused expression.

"Is Sam back?" Castiel asked, fingers grasping onto the collar of Dean's shirt.

Dean shook his head, stiff over Castiel. "No- I was supposed to pick him up," he informed. When the door opened, Dean's eyes widened in realization. "Shi- Cas, get up," Dean whispered under his breath, hauling Castiel upwards and moving to the other side of the couch, grabbing some homework as he did so.

"Sam? Dean?" a deep voice called as Castiel finished buttoning his shirt and slipped on his hoodie, grabbing a textbook and trying to look scholarly. He had no idea who the voice belonged to- it didn't sound like Bobby.

"In the living room, Dad," Dean called back, his voice impressively calm. "Sam's at a friend's house," Dean explained.

Oh.

His father.

Castiel felt panicky, but he tried to calm himself as he adjusted his textbook skillfully over his lap until he deemed it safe to remove it. He noticed Dean did the same, and couldn't help but feel a little smug, despite the situation.

When Dean's father walked into the room, though, all smugness washed itself out of Castiel, along with any of the lingering urges that had pooled in Castiel's groin. It seemed as if Dean had been frightened out of his arousal, as well, because he suddenly became alarmingly serious, standing up straight at his father's presence. John was a big, sturdy man, and he towered over the teens in an alarming fashion. His face was scruffy with a beard, and his eyes looked tired, yet kind enough. The blond offered a small grin. "Hey, Dad," he greeted, eyes flickering to Castiel. "Uh, this is my friend, Cas," he explained. Castiel took this as his cue to stand up, so he did.

John graced Castiel with a warm smile. "Nice to meet you, son," he spoke, reaching out a hand to Castiel. "I'm John."

Giving a nervous smile back, Castiel shook John's hand. "Nice to meet you, too, sir," he replied, kindly.

_I was making out with your son thirty seconds ago._

_I've seen him naked._

_In fact, I was about to, again._

Castiel hoped John didn't possess some sort of mind reading ability. But Dean's father seemed nice enough, and he gave Castiel a nod and a smile before facing Dean, again.

"So," he spoke before plopping his things down on a chair, "you boys studying?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied quickly. He and Castiel exchanged a quick glance. "We've got a history test coming up," Dean explained.

John let out a hum of recognition. It was silent for a moment. Then Dean spoke up, again.

"Hey, Dad, can I talk to you for a sec?" the blond asked, heading to the kitchen before his father could reply. Castiel sat back down in his seat, watching as John joined his son, not before giving Castiel a strange look.

This was going to be awkward.

* * *

"I thought you wouldn't be here until April," Dean inquired as soon as his father joined him in the kitchen. John raised an eyebrow.

"I was only a day early. Are you upset that I came home?" he retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Dean let out a sigh, leaning against the counter and looking anywhere but at his father. "No. You're just- a warning would've been nice," Dean grumbled. "I could've had Sam here- he wants to see you."

John was frowning, now. "Well, pardon me. I thought you two would enjoy a surprise."

Dean felt agitated, but he was more upset at himself rather than his father. He lowered his voice before he asked the inevitable. "We're leaving, aren't we?" he questioned, feeling his heart hike up to his throat, and his hands shake.

John nodded. "In a month- when you're done with the semester." At the look of despair on Dean's face, John seemed confused. "I thought that's what you wanted?"

Dean shuffled awkwardly in his spot. He didn't know what to say, so he went with the usual. "Sam's really happy. He has friends, here."

John gave Dean a look. "It seems you do, too," he pointed out.

Dean clenched his jaw before he nodded. "Yeah. I do."

John gave an easy smile, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. "That's why I'm giving you boys over a month. It's plenty of time to say your goodbyes."

"But-"

"Don't start, Dean. You know we can't stay," John spoke sternly. "We've got to keep going- I've got a lead over in Colorado. It's not too far from here, we can visit if you'd like."

Dean formed his mouth into a line to stop himself from arguing. "Yes, sir," he spoke stiffly.

They didn't speak further on the matter. And Dean didn't tell Castiel a word.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to invite Dean along?" Mrs. Madison spoke when Castiel walked over to her desk after the classroom had emptied.

Castiel shook his head, offering a smile. "He's busy, maybe next time," Castiel promised.

That, of course, was a lie. Castiel hadn't even asked Dean to join him. There was no way he'd subdue Dean to that awkwardness. Also, Castiel just needed some space. He'd been anxious all week, and it was no doubt that this event with his aunt would drain out the last of his energy he had left.

This past week had been a collection of chaotic, anxiety-inducing events, one after another. Castiel had a major test in Chemistry, and he wasn't sure he did very well, no matter how hard he had studied. Also, Castiel had met Dean's dad.

God, that had been awful.

They spent most of the time making idle conversation. Castiel tried his hardest to appear interesting to John, while at the same time trying to come up with topics they could talk about. Dean hadn't been much help- he was sort of quiet throughout the whole evening.

That kind of annoyed Castiel.

Dean paid no attention to him whatsoever. He didn't attempt to help Castiel entertain John. All he did was study his book (if by studying Castiel meant stare at the same dumb page for hours). It was almost a blessing when Dean finally took him home.

Despite the fact that as soon as Castiel was in his room he went through an anxiety attack- replaying the entire evening in his head and over thinking everything. He had felt dumb, stupid and obnoxious and irrelevant. John had seemed so uninterested in him the entire evening, answering with short phrases and paying more mind to the beer bottle in his hand.

Castiel over thought the car ride home- how the two teens didn't talk- didn't exchange one word. No music played- no goodbyes were spoken. Dean didn't even tell Castiel he'd text him later- he didn't give him a flirtatious smile or a parting kiss like he usually did.

So Castiel rode out his anxiety attack alone, and then called up Meg and walked over to her neighborhood park (a good hour long walk). When they saw one another they merely sat on the swings and caught up. They talked for hours about things that didn't matter, and Meg never once asked him what was wrong. She just did her best to distract him. It was nearly two in the morning when Castiel had arrived back home that night, escaping the attention of his father, who had fallen asleep on the couch earlier in the afternoon. Castiel had covered him up with a blanket before going to his room and collapsing in his bed- his day clothes still on. Sleep didn't come at all that night- just anxious thoughts and voices telling him to drink away the feelings.

That had been his week. Castiel was pretty sure he could count the amount of hours he had slept in the past few days on one hand. At this point, he just wanted to get the day over with so he could go home and sleep.

"Alright, I've just about finished," Mrs. Madison spoke, shutting off her computer and gathering her belongings. Castiel carried her messenger bag, since she had her arms full with files. "You need to get anything?" the teacher asked.

Castiel shook his head no. "I'm fine."

Smiling, Mrs. Madison reached a hand out, squeezing Castiel's shoulder. "Let's go, then."

They made their way to her car in the teacher parking lot, and once Castiel was situated in the passenger seat, he tried not to think too much. It had been quite a while since he'd been to Mrs. Madison's house… the last time hadn't been a very delightful occasion.

But Castiel wasn't going to let that stop him from attempting to have a good time. So he pushed aside all bad feelings and thoughts of sleep to the furthest corner of his mind.

In no time they were at Mrs. Madison's house- a fairly large brick building guarded off by a wrought iron fence. It was pretty secluded and private, compared to the rest of the showy houses nearby. The grass was well-mowed and in pristine condition, and the outside of the house seemed to display the overall "average American family" vibe.

Castiel remembered spending afternoons at this house. He would play hide and seek outside with Gabriel and Anna until sundown, when they'd go inside for crackers and juice. He'd always win because he had a secret hiding space- a little burrow in the ground, off to the side of the house. It was guarded by a thicket of untrimmed bushes and vines, and it was the perfect spot for someone of Castiel's size to hide, back when he was younger.

Castiel smiled as he and Mrs. Madison walked past that spot. He remembered Gabriel and Anna begging him to tell where he'd hide. But it was his secret, and it was one he never told.

Once they walked through the front door- a cherry red painted wood that was stubborn in opening- they were greeted with the mouthwatering scent of garlic chicken, combined with a scent of vanilla cake. Upon entering the kitchen, they earned a greeting from Mr. Madison.

Mrs. Madison's husband was a kind man. Castiel always remembered his light blue eyes as gentle, and he was well-kempt, unlike Castiel's father. Mr. Madison had nicely combed, brown hair, and his beard was always trimmed, just borderline shaggy. It was an openly welcoming appearance, and all memories of Mr. Madison were good ones.

"Castiel! Nice to see you, again," the tall man spoke, giving Castiel a warm handshake. "You've grown so big- I almost couldn't recognize you."

Castiel gave a smile as he murmured back some greetings. Mr. Madison was quite the sight, himself. He still looked the same as Castiel remembered, just with a few more laughter lines and the start of a few gray hairs. A towel was slung over his shoulder, and his sleeves were rolled up. He had a bit of flour on his cheek, and Mrs. Madison wiped it away adoringly before taking the towel and relieving him of his role in the kitchen. In exchange, he took Mrs. Madison's files and the bags Castiel was carrying, placing them on a nearby table. "Dinner will be ready in a moment," Mr. Madison informed. "In the mean time, I've got something to show you," he added before beckoning to Castiel with a flick of his hand.

Confused yet curious, Castiel followed his uncle to a room he deemed as a storage area. There were boxes upon boxes of knick-knacks, just left there to collect dust. Mr. Madison strode to one side of the room, and searched through a stack of boxes in a desolate corner. Castiel stood in the doorway, taking in the view of the room. He'd never been in it, before. "Ah, here we are- come here, Castiel!" he urged.

Castiel made his way to his uncle, and gazed at the box in his hands before looking up into dark blue eyes. "What's that?" he asked as the box was handed to him.

"A few things of yours. It's mostly photos- Hesther wanted to give them to you when you got here," the man explained. "We were cleaning up the attic when we found them."

The box in Castiel's hand was black- it was an old shoebox with gold trim. He carefully removed the lid and peered inside. Laid about were a couple stacks of photos, along with a few old trinkets. A photograph of his mother smiled up at him, and Castiel gently picked it up, gazing at the frayed photo. His mother was in a hospital gown, and although she looked exhausted, her eyes were bright and her smile was incredibly wide. In her arms was a baby- one Castiel could only assume was himself, given the dark mess of hair that poked from under a blue cotton hat. He found himself smiling at the picture, his throat going tight with emotion.

"Thank you," Castiel replied, not sure what else to say. He was speechless.

Mr. Madison smiled softly before patting Castiel on the back. "You go ahead and take your time. We'll let you know when dinner's ready," he spoke before excusing himself from the room, leaving Castiel amongst the boxes.

Feeling rather weak in the knees, Castiel sat down on an old, dusty coffee table, placing his shoebox in his lap. After returning the photo back to the box, Castiel picked up a stack of different photos, sorting through some more.

During his search, Castiel stumbled upon a picture of him and his dad. Castiel's hands were covered in red and yellow paints, his face meshed with hues of blues and green. He was sat in his father's lap at their dining table, a mess of papers sprawled ahead of them and covered in various childish scribbles. Castiel couldn't have been more than one, he realized, since his clothing was still infant-wear. He was giggling as he reached his hands up to his father's face, fingers stretching to paint his cheeks and nose. Mr. Novak was covered in hand prints. The paint marked his face and arms and white t-shirt, and dyed his hair various unflattering colors. Nevertheless, a happy grin stretched his lips as he gazed down at his son, hands gripping protectively onto him to accompany the erratic movements that Castiel must have been performing.

Castiel couldn't remember the last time his father laughed.

He gazed at the photo for a while more before he grew upset and decided to put it away. After a moment of gathering his thoughts, Castiel continued to sort through the rest of the box's contents.

Before he could get far, though, something caught his eye. The light of the room reflected off an object deep within the box, and Castiel moved the contents aside, reaching deep down to grab it.

His fingers grasped around a cold, smooth object, and something that felt like a chain. Upon removing it from the box, Castiel's eyes met with a silver cross hanging on a long string of silver. His eyebrows furrowed with confusion as he gazed at it, holding it up to the light. It seemed eerily familiar. Like something from a dream….

"That was your mother's," a voice interrupted him.

Castiel almost dropped the necklace in his shock, turning his head to see Mrs. Madison standing at the door, a smile on her face. "She wore it all the time. I don't think I ever saw her without it," the brunette recalled.

Castiel remembered, now. In almost every picture of his mom, this silver pendant would dangle from her neck. He could remember holding it in his hand- fiddling with it as he'd fall asleep on her lap after a long day at the park. Sometimes, when Castiel had nightmares, his mother would put the necklace around his neck (although it was rather big on him), and tell him stories of angels until he fell asleep peacefully.

He couldn't believe he had forgotten about the old thing.

Suddenly, a hand gently removed the cross from Castiel's grip. Not a moment later, the chain laid around his neck and the cross settled on his chest. Mrs. Madison spoke up, smiling down at Castiel in a fond sort of way.

"She would have wanted you to have it. You should take it- keep it safe for her," she suggested, patting a warm hand once over Castiel's heart- where the pendant laid.

Nodding, Castiel looked down at the cross. It was so painfully familiar, that he found he was shocked with the suddenness of it all. "I miss her," he managed to gasp out, fingers reaching up to trace the harsh lines of the silver. He pressed into the metal, trying to keep back tears.

"Me, too," Mrs. Madison spoke. All was respectfully silent, for a few moments. Then the teacher spoke up. "Come, let's go eat."


	35. Chocolate Cake

Sam's reaction to John's early arrival was pretty much like Dean's.

That was,  _after_  he found out they were moving again.

It had hurt for Dean to see his little brother so upset. Sam looked completely crushed, and he had fought with John, calling him "unfair", and angrily stating he didn't want to leave. John had been equally annoyed with Sam, telling him how it wasn't his choice and how "family needs to stick together". He always pulled that card, Dean realized, even though he didn't really live by it.

Dean sat through their argument, silent and trying his hardest not to pick sides. That was usually how these fights went. And, normally, Dean would silently agree with John. He'd never get so attached to places and people like Sammy did. All that mattered to Dean was that he had his little brother with him. Sam and John were the only people he needed- although the latter was hardly ever with them. Normally, just the thought that John would return to them was enough for Dean.

Family was all that mattered. It was all that  _should_ matter. That was the Winchester way. It was just how things had always been since their mother died.

It wasn't like that anymore. Things were different, now. Dean had new people he cared for. He had his friends and he had a freaking  _relationship_  going on, of all things. He was doing well in school, all things considered. He had people to be around. He  _liked_ it here. Not even the fact that there were people after him and Cas made him want to leave.

In fact, it made him want to stay all the more.

There was no way Dean could leave, now. Especially after what Cas had revealed to him. Dean just  _couldn't_ leave Cas behind with bullies and an abusive father.

And, most important of all, Sam was really happy here. Probably even more happy than he was in Chicago. And that was saying something.

When the argument turned into an all out yelling contest, Sam stormed out of the house, slamming the front door shut behind him. The house shook with the force of it. A picture frame even fell to the floor, the glass shattering. That only made John yell even more, even though Sam wasn't there to hear it.

As Dean got up to go get Sammy, John stopped him.

"Don't you dare go after him, Dean," the bigger man spoke, still seething with rage. His face was red, and he had a bitter frown on his face. "Let him go do whatever he damn well pleases. He can come back when he finds some sense."

Dean gazed at his father for a moment, torn between doing what he said and taking care of his brother. He had to look away from his dad and ignore the yells, before walking out the door.

"Sam!" Dean called out at the sight of his little brother. Sammy was walking away from the house, so Dean ran to catch up.

"Leave me alone, Dean," Sam snapped, not even turning around to make eye contact.

"Dude, come on," Dean spoke, catching onto Sam's arm and stopping him. "Come here. Let's go for a drive, okay? We don't have to go home until Dad's asleep. Alright?"

Sam didn't make eye contact, but he gave a stubborn nod, yanking his arm harshly away, and heading back to the car with a stubborn stomp to his stride. Sighing, Dean followed suit, climbing into the car after Sam settled in.

They drove for a long while, slipping through neighborhoods and even taking a long, winding two-lane forest road. Dean was not really sure where to go. He just drove forward, putting as much space between John and Sam as possible. He knew that was what his little brother needed to clear his head and relax. Eventually, Dean decided to settle with buying some frozen yogurt at a small shop he found. He went inside (since Sammy clearly wasn't intent on moving) and got two cups of frozen yogurt. Rocky road for Sam (it was his favorite), and cherry for himself.

When Dean got back outside, Sammy was sitting on the trunk of the Impala, legs drawn in on himself and arms crossed. Mentally preparing himself for the conversation to come, Dean joined his brother, sitting next to him and handing over the frozen treat in an act of comfort. It took a moment before Sam finally accepted it, and when he did he only held it in his hands, glaring at the swirl of chocolate and chunks of marshmallow.

"Why didn't you defend me?" Sam asked in a low tone, not looking up from his cup.

Dean swirled his spoon through the contents his cup for a moment. He took a bite before he spoke. "You know I never pick sides."

Sam looked up at that, narrowing his eyes angrily at Dean. "But this time you agree with me! I  _know_  you do! You've got friends here, Dean! You have Cas, too! You want to leave them  _already?_ "

"Of course not," Dean retorted bitterly.

"Then why don't you tell Dad? Back me up! If we both tell him we want to stay, then maybe he'll let us!"

Dean sighed. "You know that's not true. I already- he already knows that I don't want to leave. He just told me the same thing he told you."

Sam looked desperately lost. Then he huffed stubbornly, glaring at the sunset ahead of them, as if it were the source of all their troubles. "I wish we could just live here together. You already take care of us, anyway. We don't even need Dad."

"Don't say that," Dean murmured, frowning at his younger brother. Sam only shrugged before he continued.

"You know I'm right. Dean- you've been more of a parent than Dad has  _ever_  been. We don't need him! We haven't for years."

"Yes we do. He's family."

"Yeah, well it sure doesn't feel that way," Sam grumbled. It was silent.

"We could just live in an apartment. We could stay here," Sammy tried.

Dean smiled at that, and he elbowed his brother as he took another scoop of yogurt. "Don't tempt me. You know how much I'd like that."

Sam grinned back. "We wouldn't have to move anymore. We could just stay in one place. Make actual friends like actual normal people. Bobby could check up on us like he has been." He hesitated. "Dad could even visit if he wanted."

They daydreamed for a bit, listing all the things they'd do if they lived free from their father and his obsessive job occupation. Dean felt a guilty tug in his heart at talking about his father behind his back, but he wanted to satisfy Sam. Their list ranged from pizza every night to staying up until six in the morning watching Indiana Jones movies. But, most of all, they talked about their friends. They talked about how they'd be able to settle down and actually start a real life the way their family should have a long time ago.

It was nice. But, once their frozen yogurt was finished and the sun had set, Dean decided he had to be the one to use logic.

"You know we can't, right Sam?"

The younger Winchester's face fell, and he looked even more upset than before. Instantly, Dean wished he hadn't said anything. "I know," Sam whispered.

Dean felt a twist in his gut, and before he knew what he was doing he put a reassuring arm around his brother. "C'mere," he spoke, trying to ease the tension as he smiled. "We'll talk to Dad together, okay?"

Sam's face brightened up- his eyes hopeful. "Really?"

"Yes. But we're going to  _talk_ , yeah? No arguments. No losing your temper."

Blushing, Sam nodded. "Alright. Deal."

Dean smiled wide, now, and ruffled Sam's hair before taking their empty yogurt cups and jumping off the car. "Come on, let's head back. It's getting late."

Sam grinned, and bounded into the car, definitely happy now.

Dean let him choose the music on the drive home.

* * *

Castiel noticed something different about Dean. He seemed as though he was keeping a secret- and not a good one, at that. Castiel knew the look. He knew the signs. He had exhibited them so much, himself.

But, despite the fact that Dean was hiding something, he seemed genuinely happy. A few days after the incident with Dean's father, things went back to normal.

Dean even had news for Castiel.

"It's Sam's birthday in a week," Dean spoke as soon as Sam got out of the car and walked into his school.

Castiel raised an eyebrow, and a smile instantly lifted his lips. "Really? I had no idea."

Dean grinned as he drove. "He thinks I'm not gonna do anything for it, since we normally don't go big with birthdays. But I've already invited his friends over, and…" Dean glanced over at Castiel, hesitantly.

"Of course I'll be there, Dean," Castiel finished. "Do you need any help with preparations?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I do, actually. I- uh, well, there's this cake I wanna make for him. Our mom- she used to make it for him on his birthdays, but I don't have the ingredients anywhere. After she died, my dad made it for a few years... but then, I dunno, he didn't. I was gonna ask him, but," he shrugged.

Castiel understood. John was probably like Castiel's father in that way- one mention of his deceased wife and it would be impossible to predict his reaction.

"Is your father still at home?" Castiel inquired.

Dean nodded. "Yeah- he'll be here until the end of the school year." His voice seemed stiff at the last few words. Castiel brushed it off.

"So, what do you plan on doing? With the cake, I mean," Castiel added when Dean looked at him with a confused expression. "Trial and error?"

Dean made a face. "In a way, yeah. I mean, I think I've got a good basis on what main stuff I need. I just gotta find out the rest."

Castiel nodded slowly. "What do you need me to do?" he asked, ready to help as soon as possible.

Dean grinned as they pulled into the school. "I need ideas. And, well, a second head wouldn't hurt."

"I'd be glad to help," Castiel reassured with a smile. "What about the others? Will they be there, as well?"

Dean nodded. "I'm going to invite them. Sam really likes you guys."

But, even with that statement, Dean seemed troubled. This whole birthday preparation seemed like a big deal to him, and not in the way it should be. Castiel decided he'd do the best he could to help.

"It'll be great," he spoke as they climbed out of the car. "I'm sure of it."

* * *

It turned out the group was more than willing to attend Sam's birthday. They even went as far as having Dean list out Sam's hobbies over lunch, so they could each find a present he'd like. Plans for Sam's birthday filled their conversations for the entirety of the lunch period. Jo even said she'd speak to Ellen about having the party over at the diner.

In the meantime, Dean and Castiel set to working on the cake, making time for baking whenever they weren't busy with work. They'd dedicate their time to it at Dean's house when Sam and John weren't home (Dean seemed nervous about being around his father while baking the cake), and some days they'd even go to other people's houses to work. The first time they visited Bobby, who welcomed them in and tried to help as much as he could. It turned out he didn't know Mary Winchester's secret ingredients, but he helped out to the best of his ability, and provided a kitchen for the boys to work in.

Jo's house was next. Ellen tried out a few recipes with Castiel and Dean. But, while they got closer, it still wasn't how Dean wanted it.

By the fifth day of trying at baking (they were in Dean's house, today) Dean was absolutely freaking out.

Their fifth cake, while delicious, was still not what Dean remembered. Castiel could practically feel his heart sink at Dean's defeated expression.

"We could try, again?" Castiel suggested as Dean sat down on the kitchen floor, leaning against the oven.

"It's no use. I can't get it," Dean groaned, head in his hands.

Castiel sat down next to the blond, gazing at him carefully. He didn't really know what to say.

Quiet overcame them.

"I wish she were here," Dean grumbled, so softly Castiel could have sworn he'd imagined it. Castiel put a hand on Dean's knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You're doing great, Dean. Sam will love whatever you make him."

Dean removed his face from his palms, resting his head back against the still-humming oven. "That's not what I want. It's not good enough. This… it needs to be special," Dean tried to explain, looking at Castiel, now.

Castiel looked into Dean's green eyes, searching them before nodding and resting his head against Dean's shoulder. "I understand. We'll keep trying."

Dean didn't reply. He just laid his head on Castiel's own, sighing deeply as they sat there. The only noise was the low humming of the oven and the buzz of the vents above them. They sat until the smell of cake began to fade.

Then, suddenly, Castiel sat up, looking at Dean with a big smile.

"I have an idea."

* * *

They went to Castiel's house the next day. Castiel didn't tell Dean what he had planned, since he wasn't so sure it would work, himself.

Needless to say, by the time they made their way to Castiel's room, Dean was growing extremely curious. And that curiosity only grew as Castiel reached an arm under his bed, grabbing out the shoebox that laid there, hidden from possible prying eyes.

"What's that?" Dean asked.

Castiel sat down on his bed, patting the space next to him so Dean could join. Dean sat down next to him, leaning close to look at the box. "It's some of my mother's things. She used to do a lot of baking for the church- she has some recipes written down in here. It might give us some ideas."

Dean raised a curious eyebrow. "You… don't mind using these?" he asked as Castiel opened the box and pulled out the first index card he found.

"Of course not. I told you I'd help, and I will. Here, look at this one first."

There ended up being four different index cards for cakes. They looked through each one, trying to find something in the various lists of ingredients that stuck out. After writing down a list of ingredients they wanted to try, they decided to go to Dean's house to test them out.

They made two different cake samples. And, on each of them, Dean worked diligently, a determined look on his face all throughout the process, although his body posture exposed his hesitance and overall nervousness.

Castiel did his best to help. He performed every task that Dean asked of him, and put up with Dean's overall snappy orders and responses. He knew that Dean was just nervous, that he just didn't want to mess this up. Sam meant so much to Dean, and Castiel wanted to do everything in his power to make sure he would get through this successfully.

When both cake samples were finally finished, Dean didn't know what to do. Sam's birthday was tomorrow, so he'd have to decide which recipe to go with and bake, even if they might not be what he was looking for.

"Dean," Castiel spoke, urging Dean forward. "Try them out."

Nodding, Dean grabbed a fork and tried the first one. He deflated with disappointment. "No, it's just... it's close, but there's something  _off_ ," he murmured, looking at the other cake with hesitance. Castiel practically held his breath when Dean finally tried it.

After a moment, his eyes widened.

"Shit- Cas, I think-" He began, setting the fork down and looking through the recipe. "This is it! I remember-" he exclaimed, a wide smile on his face as he turned around to face Castiel.

Castiel took a breath of relief, and he accepted the hug Dean instantly gave him.

"I'm so glad!" he replied, wrapping his arms tight around Dean and smiling into his shoulder.

Dean laughed before pulling away slightly. He smiled at Castiel and then he leaned in, kissing him hard.

Dean tasted like chocolate, and his lips smiled against Castiel's as they kissed. Warm hands pressed into Castiel's back, fingers unconsciously moving about to trace along Castiel's spine. Castiel gripped onto Dean's t-shirt, pulling him near and kissing him passionately.

Once heat began pooling in his groin, Castiel nosed Dean away, looking into his eyes.

"How long will we be alone for?" he asked, noticing the way Dean went redder than he already was.

Dean checked the kitchen clock. "Another hour, at most."

Castiel smiled. "Then let's dispose of the cake evidence and go to your room," he suggested. Dean seemed more than enthusiastic about that offer, cleaning up the kitchen with Castiel at a speed almost impossible.

After making sure all hints of Sam's surprise were hidden, Dean all but dragged Castiel to his room, locking the door behind them.

They resumed kissing as soon as the door was locked. Castiel's heart was pounding, and his arousal only grew as the seconds passed. Dean had this way with kissing- even if it was rushed each kiss still seemed thoroughly thought out. It was as if Dean aimed to make every kiss memorable, no matter how large in number they were becoming, these days.

As soon as they had their lips parted long enough, Castiel spoke.

"Bed," he panted out, gazing intensely at Dean's kiss-reddened lips.

Dean nodded, leading them to the unruly bed where he all but shoved Castiel down, molding himself into him and kissing him deeply. Castiel took it all in- the press of Dean's palm into his side, the way he could hear and feel Dean's breathing as gusts of warm air on his chin and lips and in his mouth. He melted into the easy slide of Dean's lips- the way they were smooth against his own, slick with Castiel's licks.

They parted from one another, and Castiel raised a hand to cradle Dean's face- rubbing his thumb along the strong structure of Dean's jaw. Stubble prickled underneath Castiel's stride, so Castiel instinctively smoothed his finger along the growth of the short hairs. Freckles dotted Dean's skin, and Castiel took to gazing fondly at them until Dean gave him a confused smile.

"What is it?" he asked, breath halting in his throat as Castiel ran his thumb over Dean's lower lip.

Castiel smiled, reaching his fingers up to trace along Dean's nose, now, where most of the freckles laid. "You have a lot of freckles," Castiel noted, kissing Dean's cheek when his face filled with color.

"They're gross," he grumbled, ducking timidly away from Castiel's adoring trail of kisses.

"Absolutely not," Castiel murmured against Dean's skin. "They're beautiful." He kissed Dean on the lips, now, before continuing. " _You're_ beautiful."

Dean laughed, if not a bit shyly. "You don't call guys beautiful, Cas."

Castiel ignored him, giving Dean another kiss. "Well, you are," he finally decided to respond.

Dean didn't reply- he only blushed further, the pink hue dusting his cheeks and reaching down to his neck. Castiel took to placing his kisses there, tracing along Dean's jaw before going lower. Dean's hickey was still a faded bruise on his neck- sticking out as a reminder of what had happened all those days ago. Castiel licked at it, earning a sharp gasp from Dean.

"It's still there," Castiel noted, feeling a bit sheepish when Dean laughed nervously.

"Yeah. My dad asked about it. Sammy covered for me," Dean informed.

Castiel hummed. "Sorry."

At that, Dean tilted downwards, giving Castiel a long kiss. "Don't be," he whispered when they finally parted.

They continued kissing and touching, and almost instantly Castiel felt the need to shed off clothes. Specifically Dean's.

The blond seemed to know what Castiel was thinking, because he sat up above him and removed his own t-shirt, tossing it somewhere Castiel didn't care to look. He was too busy admiring the view as he reached hands up to skim over Dean's smooth skin, fingertips skidding on the rise and indents of Dean's ribs as they traveled lower. His thumbs brushed over the line of Dean's hipbones, and the blond shivered against the teasing stride.

Castiel toyed at Dean's belt, and the teen stayed absolutely still, arms propped on either side of Castiel. After running his fingers one last time along the rim of Dean's jeans, Castiel undid the belt and button, sliding down the zipper with a slow pace that had Dean nearly squirming.

As soon as Castiel finished with the zipper, Dean pulled his jeans off, then worked on Castiel's.

"You are way too overdressed," he murmured as he pulled down Castiel's jeans, tossing them to the floor. His hands moved to the hem of Castiel's shirt, but he paused, looking up so their gazes connected.

Although his breath felt thin and his heart pounded, Castiel managed to smile. "I agree," he replied, propping himself up to remove his own shirt, ridding himself of the long sleeves hiding his scars.

Dean smiled, and moved forward to kiss Castiel, hands entangled in a mess of dark hair. Castiel placed his hands on Dean's shoulders, rubbing the skin and going down to his back, following the pattern of freckles that he knew sat there. He ran his fingernails lightly up and down the ridges of Dean's spine, causing the blond to push into him and let out a content hum.

Soon their arousal reached its limit, and they were practically grinding against one another- Castiel sitting on Dean's lap, now, breathing hot and eyebrows drawn together with frustration. Once Castiel was about to say he couldn't take it anymore, Dean laid him down, shucking off both their boxers and tossing them to the floor.

Dean connected their hips, causing their cocks to catch on one another and making Castiel let out an embarrassingly needy groan. Castiel placed his hands flat on Dean's shoulders, bucking his hips up involuntarily before ceasing movement, biting on his lip hard to stop himself. He knew that Dean had something planned, and he damn well intended to last long enough for it.

"I wanna try something," Dean breathed out, looking up to meet Castiel's eyes.

Castiel nodded frantically, urging Dean on. "Yes- anything, just- please," he begged.

Almost immediately, Dean went to work, kissing down Castiel's neck and to his chest. Castiel gasped as Dean took a nipple in his mouth, tongue skimming along the bud and teeth scraping lightly, causing Castiel's cock to twitch with need.

" _Dean_ \- Dean- God," Castiel gasped out as Dean brought up another hand, working on Castiel's other nipple before switching routines, moving his lips over….

Castiel knew he couldn't take it much longer. "Dean- stop, no more,  _please_ ," Castiel moaned, running fingers through Dean's golden locks. "I can't," he explained.

Giving a hum of recognition, Dean removed his lips, giving Castiel's nipple one more flat lick before moving down his chest, kissing and licking and sucking.

When he reached Castiel's cock, Castiel was an incoherent mess, his speech mainly consisting of Dean's name. Dean grasped a loose fist around the base of Castiel's erection, and the teen fought against the instinct to thrust madly upwards. Dean looked up at Castiel. "I- I've never done this sort of thing, before. But I, uh, I know what feels good, and," Dean licked his lips, making Castiel hold back a whine. "Is this okay? Can I do this?" he asked.

Castiel had a feeling he knew what Dean was talking about. He merely nodded, wondering how Dean could manage to even talk in complete sentences.

Reciprocating Castiel's nod, Dean stroked up and down a few times before taking the head of Castiel's cock into his mouth, tongue sliding underneath- a silky slide that almost felt too right. Castiel choked out a moan before holding his breath- watching Dean so he could learn to do the same for him. Dean took him in deep, and Castiel's head tilted back instinctively, his eyes shut closed. The wet heat around his shaft felt nearly blissful, and he almost lost himself in the smooth and wet feeling of Dean's tongue and lips.

"Dean- Dean,  _fuck_ ," Castiel groaned out, unable to help himself. Dean hummed around Castiel's cock, the vibrations making something within Castiel kick.

Dean withdrew from Castiel with a wet pop, then took to licking a straight line up the underside of Castiel's erection, tracing the vein that laid there. Castiel was gripping at the sheets of Dean's bed, now, eyes shut so tight that he began to see color. When he opened his eyes everything was blurry, and he felt as though he were on the edge of a tall, tall cliff.

Dean tongued at the head of Castiel's dick- licking off the precum from his slit, digging the tip of his tongue into it. Castiel babbled something he instantly forgot, his hands flying up to settle on Dean's head as he propped himself up- running his fingers down Dean's back- trying his hardest not to let his nails scratch too far into Dean's skin.

The blond didn't seem to mind, though. He only hummed contently, quickening his speed and working hard to get Castiel over the edge. Castiel's nails dug deeper, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer.

" _Dean_ \- I'm-"

Dean didn't move, he sucked at the head of Castiel's cock, moving his fist up-

And then Castiel was coming with a groan, falling back against the mattress where his skin tingled at the touch of the sheets. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensations as he came down from his high. Castiel's whole body buzzed and hummed warmly, and he let out pathetic protests as Dean licked his softening member clean.

As Dean began placing loving kisses on Castiel's stomach, Castiel sat up, leaning over to give Dean a sleepy kiss. He felt warm and content, and overall giddy. He reversed their positions, leaning a very surprised Dean down on the mattress. Smiling, he continued kissing Dean before leading his trail of kisses downwards. Castiel decided not to tease Dean, since he had waited long enough. With a sense of determination, he went straight down to Dean's cock, taking the shaft in his hand.

"Cas- you don't have to-"

But Dean was cut off by a sharp gasp as Castiel gave an experimental lick, tongue swirling along the head and gathering drops of precum that beaded at the slit. He removed his lips, stroking his hand up and down as he gauged Dean's response.

The blond was flushed from his cheeks down to his chest. His eyes were dark, and they looked into Castiel's- silently urging him to go on.

So he did. Castiel went slowly- taking in the head of Dean's cock before sinking in lower, lips meeting his fist where it still circled Dean's length. Dean let out a deep moan, encouraging Castiel with broken praises. He continued exploring- using Dean's moans as hints towards what he liked best.

But then Dean gave a sharp hiss, sitting up.

" _Cas-_  teeth," he gasped out, a pained expression on his face that quickly took one of slight amusement when Castiel removed his lips from Dean. He looked at Dean with a worried expression. The blond was slightly out of breath, but he didn't look angry. "Just- no teeth. Hurts," he gasped out, laughing as Castiel blushed.

"I'm sorry," Castiel replied. His hand was still wrapped in a loose fist around Dean, and his eyes slowly returned to Dean's length. The blond drew in his breath as Castiel's hand began to move, again.

"Fu- it's okay, it's alright. Cas," Dean spoke in a low tone, placing a shaky hand on Castiel's leg for support. "Fuck- I'm really close."

Castiel placed a kiss on the head of Dean's cock before taking it into his mouth (far more carefully, this time). His tongue swiped over and around it as his hand pumped up and down. Dean let out a long moan- his fingers shook as they placed themselves in Castiel's hair, running through the dark locks.

"Yes- yeah, Cas, keep doing that-  _fuck_ ," Dean moaned, hips bucking up once before he stopped himself.

Castiel quickened his pace, moving a hand up to caress Dean's balls. The blond gasped, and then- with a warning to Cas to pull away- he was coming. Castiel tried to swallow like Dean had done for him, but he didn't really expect there to be as much as there was. Drops escaped and Castiel went to lick them away, cleaning Dean up almost apologetically. He not as neat as Dean had been, yet Castiel figured Dean knew what to expect a little more. The thick white substance tasted a little salty, but the taste of Dean was still on his lips, and it contrasted against the foreign flavor.

Dean, in the meantime, was loosening his now tight fingers from around Castiel's hair. It didn't hurt, really, since Dean was always sort of gentle with Castiel. He ran his fingers through his hair, again, urging Castiel upwards and into a kiss.

When their lips parted, he laughed. "You taste like cum," he noted, making Castiel smile.

"So do you," he retorted.

Dean hummed at that, and Castiel laid them down, not bothering to put any clothes back on. He just wanted to feel the heat of Dean- not intervened by cumbersome fabrics. Dean easily complied, laying down beneath Castiel and holding on gently to his arms as they adjusted themselves, entangling their legs.

Their hearts beat gently against one another, and Castiel focused on that as he gave Dean a few more soft kisses. Sweat stuck between them and layered their skin in a thin sheen, and it was instantly cooled by the ceiling fan that swung above with a low hum. Castiel instantly grew cold, so he dragged the covers of Dean's unmade bed over them, laying back over Dean and cuddling into him. He rested his forehead against the crook of Dean's neck, smiling as Dean's hand went to trace patterns on his back.

They laid like that for a while, satisfied with the comfortable silence.

Then Castiel spoke.

"We should do this more often."

Dean laughed- the sound rumbled through his chest, and made Castiel grin. "Yeah, we should," he replied.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he dreamt of Dean and chocolate cake.

* * *

Castiel wasn't very good with presents.

Later the day of the chocolate cake incident, Dean and Castiel went out shopping for final preparations needed for Sam's birthday party. John had arrived right before they left, and had even given Dean a credit card when he figured out what they were doing.

Dean left the credit card in his car, and paid for the supplies himself.

It seemed to be a strange act, at first. But Castiel had a feeling he understood. John wasn't there for the Winchester siblings, very often. Dean probably felt responsible for doing this- like John couldn't just squeeze in at the last minute and throw some money in to show his care. John didn't seem to bad a father, besides the fact that he was seldom around. He did care for Sam and Dean, that much was obvious. But Castiel supposed it was just too late for John to do much parenting.

However, that was not what was on his mind as he searched for Sam's present. He was actually sort of freaking out.

He knew Sam was an intelligent kid. That only made present shopping harder. The rest of the group had already gotten presents that Castiel had in mind- games for the DS Dean bought him back in Christmas, clothes, and money. Castiel felt as though he were too late in choosing.

He ended up buying some books that Sam had expressed some interest on reading, and Dean bought him a camera. They were not very exciting gifts, but they would be meaningful to the younger Winchester. And Castiel knew that Sam would be incredibly happy with everything they'd present him.

That Friday Ellen had cleared a corner of the diner for Sam's birthday party. They gave her the decorations, and she told them she'd have it perfect by the time they got there. John even volunteered to help set up, and Dean seemed pretty happy about that. The presents and new cake were all waiting at the diner, and a hum of excitement filled the day.

Sam didn't even mention his birthday. It was sort of sad to Castiel. He knew what it was like not to expect anything.

But Sam would be proven wrong, just as Castiel had been back in November.

They drove to Ellen's diner with an excuse of meeting John there for dinner. Sam obviously didn't expect a thing, he just quietly read a book in the back of the Impala. In fact, the only thing that got him to look up from his book was a big, loud, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" as he entered the front door of the diner.

Well, it actually caused him to drop his book. But it was pretty much the same thing.

A giggling Jess, Andy and Ava ran over to Sam, enveloping him in giant hugs. There were other kids Castiel supposed were from Sam's school, and they all rushed over to greet him. Jess snapped a pink party hat onto a still-very-shocked Sam Winchester's head, and he finally gained enough sense to look up at Dean with an incredulous gaze.

"What the-"

Dean gave him a pat on the back. "Christ, Sam, you didn't think I actually forgot, right?"

Sam let out an airy laugh, smiling now. "No- I just," he looked around him, not sure what to say. Luckily, he didn't have to find words, because his friends dragged him over to a table filled to the brim with food and drinks, chatting excitedly with him along the way. Dean and Castiel went to join them, sitting down at the table and chatting with their own friends.

There were a few customers in the diner, and they smiled at the celebration going on. Ellen gave Jo, Ash, and Cas the night off, and kids from Meg's school (they worked on days Castiel wasn't around, so he hardly ever saw them) were tending to the diner, cooking and waiting on people that walked in- even making sure the party had everything it needed.

Presents stacked high on a table, and Castiel smiled when he caught Sam's wide-eyed expression aimed towards it. Dean, who had been keeping an eye on his little brother, smiled at the look on his face, as well. Castiel didn't think he'd ever seen Dean look so happy, before.

John and Bobby had attended the celebration, and they both sat with Ellen, talking among themselves as they ate. Music joined the spirited noise of conversation, and Castiel felt very warm as he dined on Ellen's burgers and talked with Charlie and Ash. Pretty soon Sam was forced by his friends to unwrap his presents. Over twenty gifts sat on the table, waiting to be revealed. It took nearly an hour to unwrap them all and decipher who gave what, and Sammy seemed almost overwhelmed with all the attention he was receiving. Halfway through that, Dean decided to give his little brother a break (much to the protest of those who still wanted Sam to see what they got for him), and bring out the cake.

Ellen had placed the giant chocolate cake on a shining silver platter, and it was topped with fourteen birthday candles. Sam made his wish before blowing them all out, and when everyone asked what it was he wouldn't speak a word, instead giving a smile to those who asked, making motions of zipping his lips closed. Castiel noted that the Winchester brothers shared a knowing look between one another. He had a feeling Dean knew what Sam wished for.

Dean sat next to Sam as the cake was sliced into, and Castiel fought not to grab Dean's hand, since John had been keeping a wary eye on the two all night. Dean didn't even notice his father, though. Or Castiel, for that matter. He only looked anxious about the cake as it was prepared onto paper plates.

When Sam finally took a bite from his slice, a curious expression overtook him. It seemed like he was trying to recall something. Castiel could practically feel Dean hold his breath. He could barely hear the words the brothers exchanged.

"Dean, did you make this?" Sam had asked in a whisper as everybody dug into their cake, ignorant of the work and meaning that went behind the food on their plates.

Dean gave a nonchalant shrug, although Castiel could see his body relax in relief. "Yeah," he replied. "You like it?"

Sam smiled, nodding. He set his cake down and gave his brother a hug. Sam murmured something Castiel didn't catch, and Dean smiled as he hugged his brother back before shoving him playfully away, ruffling his hair messily.

The celebration went on, and the last of the presents were unwrapped. When the crowd became too much, and John's skeptic gazes overwhelmed him, Castiel excused himself, going outside for some fresh air and bringing his uneaten slice of cake with him. It was dark in the back of the restaurant. The light of a streetlamp and glow of the moon was the only provided illumination. Castiel took in the silence with an air of gratefulness.

He bit into his cake- it was moist and held the faded taste of dark chocolate, coconut, and espresso powder, part of the ingredients Dean had been missing. The icing held a trace of peppermint, and was sprinkled with white chocolate shavings. It was amazing, and Castiel felt happy at the fact that Dean had managed to find out how to make the special treat.

After a couple minutes of quiet, Sam joined Castiel.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sam asked as he sat by Castiel. The younger Winchester had taken Castiel by surprise- he had been so lost in thought that he hadn't even heard him approach.

He gave Sam a smile. "I'm fine, I just needed some air," Castiel replied. "How are you enjoying the party?" he asked, setting his cake down next to him.

Sam smiled softly- if not a bit sadly. "It's... it's a shock, I guess. I dunno, I'm really happy."

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed as he gauged Sam's expressions. "Then why do you seem so upset?"

Sam shrugged. he traced the toe of his shoe in the loose soil beneath them. "I just... I mean, I appreciate what Dean's doing. I know how much he must have worked for all this, you know? It's just- I wish it could always be like this. He's only doing this because of the whole moving thing."

Everything suddenly felt cold, and Castiel's breath went short. "Moving?" he managed to utter. "What do you mean?"

At Cas's confusion, Sam seemed worried. His green eyes widened and he sat up straighter. "Wait- you mean, Dean didn't tell you? Oh- shit, Cas, I didn't know, I thought," he cut himself off, looking extremely guilty, now. "I thought he told you."

Castiel's heart skidded in his chest. "You're moving?" he asked, wishing this was all a misunderstanding and that Sam would say no.

It wasn't.

"Most likely. Our dad, he wants to take us to Colorado. We, well, we usually move around a lot. My dad finished his work here, so now we're moving away after school," Sam reported, seeming devastated. "Cas- I'm so sorry, I really thought you knew. Please don't tell Dean I told you."

Castiel nodded, managing to swallow down the lump in his throat, although his mouth was dry. "No- I won't. Of course not," he breathed out.

Sam studied Castiel, carefully. "I know Dean would have wanted to tell you. He probably doesn't want to worry you. He told me we'd talk to our dad and try to get him to change his mind," Sam quickly explained.

"Yes. I understand," Castiel spoke, offering a smile. "It's fine. Let's head back inside- you don't want to spend your birthday out here," Castiel suggested, giving Sam a gentle pat on the back before they both got up and headed inside. When they rejoined the crowd, Dean gave them both a bright smile, walking over and swinging his arms around them both, leading them to the crowd while talking about getting Sam his first beer now that he was a "man". Castiel smiled and laughed along with them, but his heart felt heavy, and his mind was a chaotic mess.

The night had taken a turn for the worse.


	36. Closets Are Inconvenient

The days that followed Sam's birthday party were troubled. Castiel didn't know what to do with the information Sam had given him. He wanted to console in somebody, he wanted some comfort from someone so he could rest his frantic mind. But he knew he couldn't- Sam had meant for it to be a secret, and Castiel did not want to bring unnecessary trouble to the Winchester brothers.

Besides, Sam said they'd get it fixed, right?

Still, though, Castiel couldn't help but curl underneath a veil of impending doom. He knew that nice things didn't last long for him- he had even warned himself of that fact as soon as he found his new group of friends this school year. Now everything was falling back into place- things would return to the way they were.

Castiel slowly slipped into a depressed state. He hadn't had an episode like this in a while- at least, not one that went on this long. It was almost comforting, in a way. The numbness was sort of blissful- it was his defense mechanism. It was familiar. It worked.

But something inside Castiel didn't want him to return to his old lifestyle. A part of him begged him to do something about this- to talk to Dean and gain some reassurance. To allow himself continued happiness, and maybe even help Dean and Sam to stay somehow. He had been with the comfort of Dean for so long that now he needed it. He didn't know how long he'd be able to live in a numb state, after being exposed to such a different way of living. Dean's friendship had changed him, and Castiel wasn't ready to let go of that.

Castiel's father was away far more than usual. When he was home, he'd push Castiel around- yelling and talking down at him. They got complaints from neighbors, with all the commotion. Castiel's old lifestyle seemed to be slowly creeping back into his routine- pushing away the new life he had built with his friends.

But more recently Castiel hadn't seen much of his father, at all. He was very lonely in his giant house, with just the company of his nagging thoughts. He found himself more often than not wishing for Dean's presence. But he was afraid. He didn't know what he might do if he was around the older Winchester- what he might let slip out.

He wouldn't do that to Sam. He would wait for Dean to reveal his secret.

In fact, he didn't have to wait too long.

A week after the party, Dean finally gave in. He knew Castiel had been acting strange- he pointed it out constantly and was worried about him. But Castiel refused to admit what was bothering him. It was sort of ironic, how they were both keeping quiet to protect one another. Especially after they promised to be truthful. It was almost as if that goal they established was unattainable- any attempt at it was blown away by how much they had to say... and hide.

"Cas, if I tell you something do you promise not to get upset?" Dean asked as they lounged in Castiel's study room one evening. It was a giant library that was hardly used- Castiel's father was away, once again, so Dean and Sam had come to visit, under Castiel's insistence (he didn't want to spend another day alone in that house, for he feared he might go insane). Sam had left the room to go get some drinks from the kitchen when Dean spoke.

"Of course," Castiel replied, keeping his gaze transfixed on his history notes. He didn't want to meet Dean's eyes- he didn't want him to know that he already knew what he would say.

"Well… there may be a possibility of… uh," Dean fiddled with his pencil, eyes darting to the floor of the study, studying at the mahogany-colored grain of the hardwood. "Sam and I might move, soon. To Colorado."

Castiel looked up at Dean, and the blond kept up his averted his gaze, looking shamefully at his pencil now as he traced patterns with his eraser.

"Are you certain?" Castiel asked, the news still sending a punch to him, breaking his numb state. All this time, he sort of hoped he had been wrong. He hoped that Sam had been fibbing.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Uhm, my dad moves us around a lot. We don't normally stay in one place too long. I just… I meant to tell you," Dean informed, eyebrows furrowed and eyes troubled as he looked up at Cas. "I didn't wanna make you worry. Sam and I- we're gonna try and sort it out."

"Sort it out?" Castiel questioned, surprised he could talk when his breath was caught in his throat.

Dean nodded, again. "My dad- he's used to Sammy not wanting to move. But not me. We were thinking we could sit him down and try to talk some sense into him. He's a stubborn bastard, but… well, it could work."

Castiel's lips drew into a line, and he forced a nod. "Alright," he murmured as he darted his eyes away, so as not to show his hesitation towards Dean's reassurance.

It was silent. They continued their work, both left with so much to say.

"Sam told you, didn't he?" Dean asked, startling Castiel, and making him look up. Their eyes connected, and it seemed to only confirm Dean's suspicions.

"He… did not mean to," Castiel defended.

Dean laughed, although it wasn't a happy one. "Man, that explains a lot."

Castiel sighed, looking away. "Dean-"

"You two had been acting really weird. Ever since Sam's birthday- Jesus, I shoulda known he'd tell you-"

"Do not be upset," Castiel interrupted, gaze locked on Dean's. "Sam didn't mean to tell me the news- he thought you had already told me."

Dean looked irritated- he was pressing his lips in a line, squeezing his pencil as he inspected it. "You could've talked to me about it instead of ignoring me this entire week."

Castiel gazed at Dean apologetically. "I'm sorry," he tried. "Sam told me not to tell you… but I suppose my behavior told you, itself," Castiel murmured. He took a deep breath before placing away his work. Dean did the same, shaking his head bitterly.

"Damnit, I should be apologizing. I mean- I was the one who said we gotta be more truthful, and," he sighed and ran fingers through his hair (which had grown quite past its normally short crop, Castiel realized), trying to find the words to say. "I dunno, I haven't been sticking to that. I'm really sorry."

Castiel looked down once more, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "It's fine," he mumbled. All was silent, and Castiel desperately wished for Sam to rejoin them.

"C'mere," Dean insisted after a minute, reaching out an arm as an invitation.

Castiel hesitated before he gave in, scooting across the floor and sitting by Dean's side. Dean pulled him near, and Castiel took to resting his head in the crook of the blond's neck. He sighed as Dean's hand ran up and down his arm.

"I don't want you to leave," he finally murmured, cheek pressed against Dean's shoulder. "Not you or Sam."

Dean's hand went down to hold Castiel's own. He moved to place a kiss on Castiel's forehead. "I'll do my best to make sure we stay."

Castiel nodded, holding back the prickling sensation in his eyes. The reality of their conversation suddenly hit him, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it all.

Dean turned to face Castiel, and he looked into his eyes before giving him a kiss. It was warm and sweet, and it made Castiel's breath catch in his throat and his heart flutter within him. He tried not to think about how many more kisses they'd share before their last.

When Dean pulled away, he rested their foreheads together, their noses brushing. "I won't leave you here, Cas. I'm not gonna let that happen."

Castiel smiled sadly, nodding before pulling away from Dean, picking up his discarded homework. "I know. I believe you," he replied in a low voice. Dean soon retrieved his own work, letting his leg rest against Castiel's as Sam walked into the room.

And Castiel decided he wouldn't dwell on the matter- or, at least, he'd  _try_  not to. He wanted to focus on his time with Sam and Dean, however little that may be.

* * *

"Well, Clarence, I think if that table gets any cleaner it'll pass the health inspection for a decade."

Castiel looked up, suddenly realizing where he was and blushing at Meg's teasing tone. He could feel how hard he had been scrubbing at the booth table when he tried to unclench his hand from the rag and earned a aching protest from his fingers.

"Sorry," he murmured, picking up his sanitizer and moving on to the next booth. Meg followed along.

"You okay?" she asked, grabbing the rag from his hand, thus forcing him to make eye contact.

"Yes- sorry, I'm fine. I'm just tired. Sorry," he replied, looking around the diner. It was pretty much empty. There was only one customer at the bar counter, and Jennifer (an older waitress) was serving him.

"That's the third time you've said sorry and we've only been talking for a minute," Meg pointed out in a drawl, raising an eyebrow.

"Sor-" Castiel began before he stopped himself. "Apologies," he said instead, giving Meg a pointed look as he took back his rag and wiped down the next table.

"What's wrong, Cas? You've been distant all day," Meg observed, sitting down at the booth and looking up at Castiel.

A smile tugged at the corner of Castiel's lips. "Be careful, Meg, or people will start to think you have a soul," he advised, earning a light punch on his arm.

"I'm serious," she retaliated, although she was smiling now. "What's eating you?"

Castiel sighed, realizing she wasn't going to give up. "It's not that big of a deal."

Meg hummed in thought. "Anything I can help with?"

Castiel smiled bitterly. "No- I don't think so."

It was silent for a while. "Well, I'm having a couple of people over for a pool party this Saturday. You should come. Jo, Adam, and Ash are coming, and I think they're bringing Charlie and Chuck. You could bring Dean? He and I aren't exactly  _compadres_ yet so I was gonna ask you to do the honors," she explained with a teasing smile.

Castiel frowned, squirming awkwardly in his spot as he focused on the table he was cleaning. "I don't know, Meg. I'm not the swimming type."

Meg snorted at that. "Oh, that's not the only thing that'll be going on, trust me."

Castiel was hesitant.

"You don't even have to be near the pool. It's just an incentive, since it's gonna be hot as hell this weekend. What do you say?"

After finishing the table, Castiel responded. "I'll think about it."

That was enough for Meg. She smiled as she got up to wait on someone who had just walked in. "Just keep me updated!"

"Yeah, okay."

* * *

Dean was more than enthusiastic about the idea, and Castiel was admittedly shocked. He thought that Dean would be hesitant about a pool party- in fact, he was sure Dean would say no, what, with all that was going on. But now that Dean had agreed and Castiel's dad was confirmed to be away on Saturday, Castiel had no argument as to why he couldn't go.

So that's how Castiel found himself clad in horribly old shorts and a t-shirt, climbing into the passenger seat of Dean's car in a stubborn fashion. Castiel's obvious annoyance, of course, only thoroughly amused his completely-unhelpful boyfriend.

"Aw, come on, Cas," he spoke among laughs, "it's not gonna be that bad."

Castiel snorted in response. The thing was, things like pool parties really just weren't Castiel's forte. He felt as if he'd be out of place, even if he would be around his friends.

The thing that did make this all worth it, though, was that there was a high chance Castiel would be able to see Dean shirtless. The downside was that he wouldn't be able to obviously ogle at Dean's perfect form, because, although the group now knew about him and Dean, there would be others that didn't- there could be people that wouldn't understand.

So, yeah, Castiel wasn't exactly looking forward to watching his friends swim as he sat on the sidelines and tried to look invisible. But, at least he'd be surrounded by people he cared about instead of being on his own in his way-too-big house.

That was all that mattered. And that was what Castiel tried to tell himself when they got to Meg's backyard, where a bunch of people that Castiel didn't know lounged around, talking loudly and swimming and splashing and running and laughing and-

His heart suddenly couldn't stop pounding, and Castiel found he was frozen in his spot. He could barely detect Dean's voice- only slightly feel the brush of fingers on his elbow.

And then Charlie was in front of him, snapping him out of his panic and giving him a hug, effectively wetting Castiel's shirt as she did so.

"We didn't think you'd come!" She exclaimed, pulling away and observing her friend. "Why aren't you wearing a swimsuit?" she asked as Dean was dragged away by Jo, where he joined her, Ash, Adam, and Chuck in the pool (not without giving Castiel one more glance to assure he was okay, which Castiel responded with a nod).

Castiel shrugged, giving her a smile. "Didn't have any swimming trunks," he lied.

"Oh, okay. Well, here, I was done swimming, anyways! We could just join the others and dip our feet in the pool, if you want," she suggested, smiling in a bright way that Castiel couldn't say no to.

He eventually agreed, letting her drag him to the shallow end of the pool, where they sat on the edge and let their feet dangle in the water as they both sipped on soda and talked. It was incredibly hot outside, and Castiel found that he wanted to dunk himself under the clear, cool water of the pool. But his anxieties took hold of him, as they often did, and he decided he was content enough with being able to wade his feet about in it.

That was a big enough step, for now.

Still, though, Castiel couldn't help but look on after his friends, wishing he could join them and just be  _normal_ for once. But, even if he were to be able to swim, he'd still have his scars preventing him from participating in regular teenager things and doing regular teenager activities.

Such as swimming when it was eight-four degrees outside.

The scars on his arms were currently covered up- something that Castiel hated to do. It made him feel fake. It made him feel like he was lying to his closest friends, when all they ever did was try to make him feel comfortable.

They would learn of his secret another time, though.

Castiel noticed girls he didn't know eyeing Dean. And, well, he couldn't blame them. Dean was incredibly eye-catching, and Castiel found he had to tear his eyes away multiple times from Dean's slender frame- from the way his swimsuit hung low on his hips, the light green of the fabric accentuating his tan and eyes and  _Castiel really needed to stop looking._

Dean was inevitably approached by many girls. They were mostly kind- just introducing themselves, and trying to get to know him. But Castiel still couldn't help the burning jealousy in his gut when their touch would linger too long or when they'd get too close. It took all his willpower not to jump in that pool and pathetically doggy paddle his way over there so he could drag Dean away and "make his claim", so to speak.

Castiel's jealousy slowly eased, though, when he noticed that Dean didn't pay much mind to all the attention he was receiving from the admittedly attractive girls pursuing him. He gave them kind smiles and returned their conversations, politely, but in the end he'd only have eyes for Castiel, giving him a wink when nobody was paying mind to them. Needless to say, Castiel didn't feel worried.

So he talked with Charlie, letting her introduce him to different people- and not one of which asked Castiel why he wasn't swimming, which was an incredible relief. At one point Gilda came up to them (apparently she went to Meg's school, and was good friends with her), and talked with the two. She commented on how Castiel was in need of another haircut (he'd been trimming it himself, the past few months), and planned a time she could cut it for him, playing with the unruly strands as she spoke. It felt nice to be around Gilda, again. She brought a calming, yet upbeat aura with her, and it was easy to fall into conversation with the brunette.

Everything was pretty much as normal and relaxing as things could get for Castiel. That was why he didn't expect what Charlie said next, once they were alone.

"You don't know how to swim, do you?" she had spoken up.

Castiel looked over at the redhead in shock. "What?" he asked, telling himself he'd misheard her.

"You don't know how to swim," Charlie stated, her question confirmed when Castiel flushed with embarrassment, dodging his head to other way and avoiding answering her. "Hey- it's no big deal," she assured, bumping her leg with his.

"Yes it is," he retorted, frowning at the water that his toes skimmed over. "How many people do you know who are my age and don't know how to swim?" he asked, looking at Charlie and then gesturing his head pointedly to all the people swimming freely in the pool.

Charlie frowned. "It doesn't mean you can't learn- I could teach you," she offered, earning a smile from Castiel. She suddenly smiled deviously, elbowing Castiel as she wriggled her eyebrows. "Or you could get Dean to teach you," she spoke under her voice, effectively making Castiel blush deeply (something he hoped the heat of the day would cover) as he imagined the scenario.

"He doesn't know yet," Castiel retorted.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Really? Huh, well, you should tell him soon. This kind of weather isn't gonna last forever- it's supposed to be a cold spring," she informed, suddenly straightening up and smiling. "Speaking of which, he's on his way over here now."

And Castiel barely had enough time to scope out for Dean before the blond was seated between them, slinging wet arms over both their shoulders, earning a laugh from Charlie and a " _Dean_ " from Castiel as the dark-haired teen tried to pry his arm off of him- ineffectively, he might add. That only earned it tightening around him, and then Castiel was getting pulled into the very soaked side of Dean, along with Charlie.

"How's it going, guys?" Dean asked, smiling smugly as Castiel ducked out of Dean's embrace, straightening out his now-wet clothes, and fixing his hair.

"Thanks for that, Winchester," Charlie laughed, shoving Dean away and effectively releasing herself from his grasp. "Well, now that I'm soaked again I have no option but to go back into the pool," she sighed with feigned drama to her voice. "I'll catch up with you guys, later."

And then Charlie was off, not before giving Castiel a lewd wink and also slapping Dean lightly on his head, making him laugh.

It was silent, for a moment, before Castiel spoke.

"It seems like you've been having a good time," Castiel observed, trying to postpone what Charlie had encouraged him to speak of.

Dean shrugged, giving a sly smile as he leaned in as close as he dared. "It'd be better if you were there, too," he murmured, making Castiel's breath halt as Dean's shoulder touched his own.

Castiel swallowed, suppressing a smile and shoving Dean playfully away. "You've soaked my clothes."

"Hmm," Dean contemplated, jutting out his lower lip as he thought. "You should take them off," he concluded.

Castiel rolled his eyes, although he was trying hard to contain his blush at Dean's forwardness. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he joked, giving Dean a teasing smile.

"Very much," Dean replied, and Castiel could  _just_ feel Dean's warm breath ghost at his neck. He held back a shiver.

"Not here, Dean," he barely breathed out, only making Dean raise an eyebrow and smirk.

"Then… somewhere else?" he asked.

Castiel laughed, shaking his head as he dodged out of Dean's gaze. "Where do you recommend we go?" he questioned.

Dean shrugged, smiling as he spoke. "I dunno. Maybe a bathroom. We're 'changing our clothes'."

Castiel gave Dean a look. "That's hardly inconspicuous. And it screams gay."

Dean groaned dramatically, rolling his head back before leaning heavily against Castiel. " _C'mon_ , Cas," he complained.

Looking around, Castiel made sure nobody was paying them any mind. The coast seemed clear, so Castiel gave Dean an innocent look.

"I need to dry off. You want to join me?" he asked.

Needless to say, ten seconds later they had found their way into Meg's house (which was mildly crowded) and set to searching for somewhere private that they could "freshen up".

What they thought was a bathroom door ended up being a closet, and they deemed it good enough and far away from the crowd, so they stumbled inside. It was incredibly dark, and Castiel shuffled through the mess of coats and cardboard boxes.

" _Ow!_ Fuck-"

"What happened?" Castiel asked, panicked.

"I think I stepped on a coat hanger. Fucking- ugh, that hurt. Wait, I think there's a light in here."

And there was. Dean pulled on a white string that hung between them, and suddenly a small light bulb illuminated the room, flickering from its lack of use.

Castiel laughed at the sight of Dean. The blond had a grumpy look on his face, and a purple coat was draped over most of his right half. "Here," Castiel spoke, brushing the coat to the ground and bringing Dean forward to give him a kiss. "Are you okay?"

Dean pouted, looking away from Cas. "'Was like stepping on a Lego," he murmured.

Castiel laughed again, reminding himself they had to be quiet, and stifling his giggles. He braced his hands on Dean's shoulders, placing some space between them as he looked down at the floor. "One moment," he spoke, brushing items aside with his foot, giving them space to move about at least a few inches. "Alright. Now come here," he ordered, pulling Dean close.

Dean easily complied, reaching forward- his fingers grasping the material of Castiel's t-shirt. "Let's let this dry," he teased.

"It won't do much of that with you," Castiel retorted, wrinkling his nose as the smell of chlorine filled the closet. Dean smiled, draping the fabric over a box before returning to Castiel and placing kisses on his jaw, chin, lips.

Then, suddenly, Dean was laughing so hard that it startled Castiel.

"What? What is it?" Castiel asked, concerned.

"Do you even realize where we are?" he snickered. Castiel looked around them, and it took a while for him to understand what Dean found so humorous.

" _Oh_ ," he exclaimed.

"Hey, Cas-"

"Dean, don't you dare-"

"We should really finish up so we can-"

"Dean-"

"Come out of the closet," Dean finished, looking like the pure definition of smug as Castiel shoved him away.

"You're incredibly immature."

"I feel like our whole life is ironic. Of course we looked for a place to make out and ended up in a closet. I mean, damn."

"I honestly can't believe you felt the need to point that out," Castiel retorted.

Dean laughed, again, bringing Castiel close and giving him another kiss. "I'm sorry- God, I'm done, okay- I'm done," he promised at Castiel's skeptical gaze. Dean gave him another kiss, and soon Castiel's hands found their place back on Dean's shoulders, rubbing against the expanse of Dean's pool-cold skin. Dean's hands grasped at Castiel's face, thumbs rubbing at his cheekbones as he cradled him. Castiel had to remember to breathe as he focused on the feel of Dean's hands and lips and-

"Jesus, Cas, I wanted you in that pool with me so bad," Dean admitted, lidded eyes gazing at Castiel's lips before he gave him another kiss.

"That wouldn't have played out too well," Castiel attempted to joke.

Dean laughed, shying away from Castiel. "Yeah, probably not… next time, then? With… less people around," he suggested.

Getting a sick feeling, Castiel frowned. "No- I don't think so," he admitted, braving up against Dean's confused stare. "I… don't know how."

Dean tilted his head to the side, trying to understand. "To swim, you mean?" When Castiel nodded, Dean smiled before he continued. "So  _that's_ what it was. You could've told me- I can teach you," he offered. "I taught Sam."

Castiel smiled softly, giving Dean a kiss. "We'll see," he replied.

"How about a deal?" Dean went on, persistent with the topic. "I'll teach you to swim if you teach me your mad bowling skills," Dean bargained, making Castiel laugh with shock.

"Is that Dean Winchester admitting to defeat?" he asked, earning a particularly sassy eye roll.

"Not defeat. Just an incredible desire for improvement. C'mon, it's a win-win."

Castiel was smiling fully, now, and he nodded, hands sliding down Dean's shoulders so he could give him a kiss. "You'd better not let me drown," he teased. Dean's hands tightened on their place at Castiel's hips.

"Never," he promised, placing a kiss on the corner of Castiel's mouth before sliding his lips over Castiel's, pressing in close.

Castiel nosed Dean away, going to place a kiss on his neck but getting intercepted by the string hanging from the ceiling. The light flickered as Castiel swatted it away.

"We couldn't have picked a more inconvenient place to do this," he noted, making Dean laugh.

"I agree. I was hoping it'd be a bathroom. But, hey, closets are more… private," he attempted.

Castiel hummed, finally placing his lips on Dean's neck, and giving him a light kiss. "And more cramped."

Dean silenced Castiel's complaints with a long, insistent kiss.

They didn't do much talking, after that.

* * *

John Winchester sat down his glass, heaving a deep sigh before he spoke.

"Have you… noticed anything strange about Dean?"

Bobby gave a grunt of acknowledgement, eyes fixed on the television of his living room. "Wanna be more specific?" he replied gruffly.

John shook his head, trying to find the words to say. "He's been… resilient. It's like he's teaming up with Sammy- they're both trying to persuade me to let them stay."

"He's a kid," Bobby stated. "Ain't gonna go 'round agreeing to everything you tell him to do."

"It's not just that," John argued. "He's… been different. Anxious, almost. There's also that other boy he's with all the time."

Bobby was paying attention, now, sitting up a bit straighter as he eyed John, warily. "You mean Castiel?"

"Yes, him. Ever since I've been home it's like those two come in a pair," John grumbled out, taking a sip from his glass.

"The boy's allowed to make  _friends_ , John."

"You know that's not what I mean," John retaliated. Bobby was silent, the TV forgotten as he gazed at John.

"Then what do you mean?"

John averted his gaze to the television, breathing in deeply through his nose. "I'm not sure," he sighed out.

Bobby was restless. "So... yer really moving them around, again?"

John let out a grunt, swirling the contents of his glass. "Yes." Silence encompassed the two men, the empty atmosphere filled with the sounds of a meaningless television show.

Bobby sighed, shaking his head. "John, this needs to stop."

"What are you talking about?"

" _This,_ " the older man exclaimed. "This  _obsession_  over finding Mary's killer."

"I've got a lead," John argued, glaring at the TV.

"That's what you always say," Bobby sighed. John was silent. "Sam and Dean aren't boys anymore, John. They're both turning out to be young men. Pretty independent ones, I should add. You can't keep dragging them around through this insanity. You all need to  _live your lives_."

"So what do you suggest I do?" John snapped, narrowing his eyes as they averted towards the other man. "Do you want me to just  _give up?_ Let Mary's killer roam free?"

"I'm saying you need to move on," Bobby retaliated. "You need to spend time with your kids. Let them have a life, for Christ's sake. Before it's too late for them to. Your boys have a good thing going on, here. They're content. Hell, I haven't seen those two so happy in years."

John's jaw clenched, and he looked away from Bobby. "I can't do that. I can't leave them here."

It was quiet, again. "You already have, John." When he didn't respond to that, Bobby continued. "This isn't what Mary would have wanted," he spoke gently. "She would've wanted you to move on, even if it's without her."

"You don't understand," John mumbled.

"Like hell I do!" Bobby replied. "She may have been your wife, but she was  _my_ sister. And we both know she wouldn't have wanted this."

John shook his head, shoulders slumping as he lifted his glass to his lips. "I'm not giving up, Bobby," he spoke before he took a long swig.

Letting out a disgruntled noise, Bobby got up, grabbing John's glass as he did so. "Then you're gonna need something stronger than whiskey."


	37. Rumors Can Be True

The following Monday brought trouble for both Dean and Castiel.

Castiel knew he should have expected it. He should have been prepared. Alastair hadn't made his blow- or even intentions known- and that alone should have unsettled Castiel.

He was just so busy freaking out over losing Sam and Dean that he let his guard slip.

First, there was his locker.

Damage to school property was not something that went overlooked. If it happened, it was made a big deal. It would be announced over the intercom, and addressed by a video from an administrator or even the principal. Everyone would talk about it, and different rumors would spread, creating stories that may not even relate to the truth. And, worst of all, somebody completely innocent would be dragged into the mess.

That's exactly what happened to Castiel.

His stomach dropped as he gazed at the horrific writing on his locker. Adam stood by Castiel, just as shocked at the words that beamed at the both of them in dripping red paint.

Castiel couldn't breathe. Everything was spinning and he couldn't breathe.

" _Adam_ ," he gasped out, feeling like somebody had punched him in the gut. People were slowing down as they walked past Castiel's locker, some just as shocked and some laughing and hooting names. The crowd hadn't dispersed. Teachers were yelling, now, trying to bring about order.

A hand made its way to Castiel's shoulder, and he could barely detect Adam's voice.

"Hey- Cas, it's fine, man," Adam managed to speak, putting another hand on Castiel's arm. "It's okay, let's get stuff to clean it up. Nobody else is going to see it."

It was a lie. Of course it was. But Castiel only nodded, mind frantic and heart pounding.

And, just as Adam was leading Castiel away, a voice rung out, catching both boys' attention.

"Woah, Cassy, way to come out," Alastair remarked, smiling horribly as Castiel gaped.

Before Castiel could speak, Adam was shoving Alastair out of their path, leading Castiel to the bathroom. "Out of the way," the blond scowled, pulling Castiel along with him, keeping him close and winding an arm protectively around his shoulders to block him from the mocking hands of students that tried patting his back in "celebration". He kept his free hand tight on Castiel's shoulder, guiding him.

But then Alastair said something that made Castiel's bones freeze with dread.

"What, you're leaving? I was just gonna tell you about the photo!"

Castiel turned around, jerking out of Adam's grasp. His wide blue eyes fixed onto Alastair's cold ones. "What photo?" he asked, feeling as though he weren't in his body, at all.

Alastair smiled, giving a nonchalant shrug. "Just a photo to settle the rumors. I'm very excited to be a part of your coming out, Cassy," Alastair spoke before giving Castiel a pat on the shoulder and leaning in close. "You should be careful what you do in the parking lot," he whispered into Castiel's ear before smirking and walking off.

Everything was spinning out of control, and the next thing he knew Castiel was sitting down in the bathroom, knees drawn to his chest and hands on his head as he tried to control his breathing. Adam was next to him, and Castiel finally caught his words.

"It's alright, Cas, just breathe," Adam instructed, seeming panicked at his friend's state. His eyebrows were furrowed with despair and he kept a hand hovered over Castiel's shoulder, not sure what to do. Blue eyes glanced at his phone, then back at his friend. "Dean's on his way, we're gonna fix this, alright? Charlie is getting the janitor to clean off your locker right n-"

They were interrupted by a group of guys that walked in, and Adam snapped, ordering them out in a agitated manner. They merely gawked at the scene in front of them before rushing out, excited talk starting among them. Castiel tried to slow down his breathing. His heart was pounding fast in his chest, and a ringing filled his ears, drowning out Adam's reassurances.

"Dean's on his way," Adam spoke, hands ghosting at Castiel's shoulders. "It's gonna be okay, just breathe."

True to his word, the door opened not even a minute later, and Castiel could just barely make out Adam's voice.

" _Jo?_ " he exclaimed as a figure dropped in front of Castiel. "What are you-"

"It's a boy's bathroom, Adam, not hell," Jo retaliated before kneeling at Castiel's left.

Hands covered Castiel's own- warm and strong, lowering them down, and urging Castiel to look up.

" _Cas_ ," Dean's voice rung out. "Cas, please, look at me," he ordered.

Castiel shook his head hard, his quick-paced breathing turning into wet gasps. His mind was in panic- he was  _drowning_  and he couldn't come to the surface for air.

Dean's hands covered Castiel's cheeks, now, guiding his face up where he was met with green eyes. Castiel was gasping for a clear breath- it felt like he didn't have enough, no matter how much he breathed in, and out, and in, and out-  _in, out, in, out, in, out-_

Dean pulled Castiel close,  _tight_. His hand splayed itself on the back of Castiel's head, and he could hear Dean's voice in his ear- could feel fingers gripping on.

"Everything is okay," he murmured, holding Castiel tighter as the smaller teen let out a sob. "I'm here, I'm here."

Castiel shook his head violently, drawing his legs tighter to himself and resting his forehead on his knees in an attempt to steady his breathing. Dean didn't let go of Castiel's hands, and his grip was no longer comforting, but frantic. Castiel squeezed back, focusing on breathing-  _in and out, in and out, in and out._ When Castiel didn't calm down, Dean looked panicked, and he turned to Adam.

"Tell me what happened," he commanded, hands squeezing Castiel's wrists, now.

"It was Alastair," Adam spoke fast. "Dean, man, everybody knows. He wrote it on Cas's locker and then he said something to him, but I don't know what."

Dean looked equally as panicked as Castiel felt, but he composed himself, instead turning back to Castiel and taking his face gently in his hands, easing him up to look in his eyes.

"Everything is fine," he whispered so quietly Castiel could barely hear him over the rapid pounding of his heart. "We're all here. I'm right here. We're gonna do this together, okay?"

Castiel focused on green eyes, nodding frantically before closing his eyes and letting Dean pull him close. He closed his eyes and buried his face against the material of Dean's shirt.

"Nobody's gonna hurt you. Nobody is gonna fuckin' touch you, I swear to God," Dean whispered into Castiel's ear, his hands gripping on tight to Castiel's jacket. "I'm right here, I'm not goin' anywhere."

And that's how Castiel rode out his anxiety on the dirty floors of a public bathroom, his chest screaming with pain and Dean, Jo, and Adam all comforting him along the way. As soon as he gathered himself, first period had well started, and Castiel felt exhausted- like he wanted to do nothing but hide and sleep.

When Dean helped him onto his feet (a swaying, stumbling sort of motion), Castiel felt panicked, again.

"He saw us," he whispered to Dean, gripping on tight to his arms.

Dean looked confused. "What do you mean? Who?"

"Alastair. He saw us in the parking lot," Castiel explained, feeling the need to vomit. "He has a photo."

It was Dean's turn to look panicked, now. He paled a noticeable shade, and his jaw hung open. "How? What… what did he say?"

"He's going to show it to everybody," Castiel spoke, feeling his heart race. "I know he is."

Dean's jaw tightened, and he looked Castiel in the eyes. "It doesn't matter," he decided. "Let him. Fuck, let the whole school know. I'm not gonna leave your side, Cas. We'll get through this, together."

"It's not the school I'm worried about," Castiel replied, looking at Dean, gravely. Dean instantly understood, and his eyes widened.

"You don't think he'll find out, do you?" Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head miserably. "I don't know. If the principal contacts him about it-"

"Then we'll explain it to him, together," Dean promised, grabbing hold of Castiel's hands and squeezing them tightly. "You don't have to face him alone."

And although he felt his heart tighten at the thought of his father finding out, Castiel nodded, deciding to give in to Dean's reassurances. He didn't tell Dean what his father would do- how no words of comfort would ever make him okay with what Castiel and Dean shared. He wouldn't understand. He'd separate them. It would all be over.

"Okay," he breathed out, swallowing the lump in his throat as he tried to stop his hands from shaking. "Okay."

Dean gave a smile, urging Castiel forward. "Let's go to homeroom. We're all gonna walk there, okay?"

Castiel gave another nod, letting his friends lead him out of the bathroom and past his locker, where a janitor was stood, shaking his head at the writing that vandalized the metal material.

Dean had Castiel look away, murmuring that it was no big deal- that it was already almost off. But the words were burned in Castiel's mind- hateful slurs and terrible accusations. He had seen the red. And it would never truly be gone.

There was no way he could explain this to his father.

* * *

Castiel was called into the office at the end of the day, along with Dean. No other name rang on the speaker. Not Gordon's, not Alastair's- nobody.

And Castiel tried to tame the pounding of his heart as he sat on a cold leather chair, Dean on his right and equally as silent.

The air conditioner hummed. A wall clock ticked. Castiel's leg itched to tap repeatedly, but he strained his muscles and kept it absolutely still.

Ms. Darvill gazed at the two teenagers. Her fingers were laced, forming a steeple that sat in front of her lips. Her eyes were emotionless as she contemplated what to say. Wrinkles adorned her features, sat and subtle around her eyes. Castiel looked away.

Finally, she spoke.

"It seems as though trouble never ends for you two," she observed, lifting her head as she placed her hands down onto her desk, twining her fingers together. "I'm quite considering whether all these incidents are merely coincidence, or in fact intended on your part."

"Ms. Darvill-"

"I did not ask you to speak, Mr. Winchester," the stout lady interrupted, eyes tired and stern as they landed upon Dean.

The blond's mouth snapped shut.

She let out a long sigh, now. The clock ticked. She glanced at it. Castiel's legs hummed, now.

His heart was so loud.

"Castiel," she sighed, averting brown eyes to the teenager. "Please, explain to me what happened."

Castiel licked his lips. He couldn't remember how to speak. He blinked before he found his voice.

"Somebody spray painted my locker," he stated, dumbly, not sure how to go about it other than to say the obvious.

"Go on."

The carpet was dark gray. Castiel's knuckles were white where they gripped his knees. "I don't know. I just saw it like that- I didn't see who did it. I visited my locker before homeroom, and there were a lot of people gathered around it. It could've been anyone."

The principal was silent. Castiel could clearly see she was debating on giving up trying to get to the bottom of this. Dean spoke out loud.

"Aren't there supposed to be cameras in the hallways?" he asked, snappy and overall irritated. "Why haven't you called up the person who did this?"

Ms. Darvill gave Dean a stern look. "We did not find out who did it. Not all the cameras are functional. We're doing the best we can."

Dean's eyebrows rose in disbelief, and he then glared as he leaned back in his seat. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I believe Alastair did it," Castiel spoke up before Ms. Darvill could reprimand Dean. He needed Alastair suspended. He needed that picture away from this school. He needed this gossip destroyed before it reached his home.

She gave Castiel an easy look. "There is no proof of that."

"No physical proof, yes," Castiel responded. "But he approached me as I was walking away and taunted me. He…" Castiel glanced at Dean, who was looking nervously back at him, "threatened to spread rumors," the teen murmured.

Ms. Darvill sighed. It wasn't much to go on, Castiel knew. But he didn't know what else to say without confirming the words on his locker right here, and now. "What was it he said?"

Castiel tugged at the hem of his shirt. "I… cannot say, really," he mumbled, feeling hopeless once more.

It was silent, again. Ticking resumed.

A sigh. "I'm sorry, boys, but it appears that there is nothing I can do. I'm going to have to call your fathers and let them know of what's been happening."

Castiel went cold. This was it. There was no way he could stop this, now.

It was all over.

Castiel could faintly hear Dean try and reason with the principal. But he knew it was pointless.

"You've gotta keep Alastair out of school, just until this is sorted out. He's got compromising photos of us," Dean tried to explain, leaning forward in his seat. "He's threatening to release them."

"And there is nothing I can do about that," Ms. Darvill tried to explain. "I can make sure these photos are not put up in the school, but as far as online- I cannot control what a student chooses to do. That is not in my power. I can only keep up with what happens  _inside_  this school-"

"But you're  _not even doing that!_ " Dean exclaimed, now, fuming with rage.

Ms. Darvill stood up, now. "You are both dismissed," she spoke sternly. An apologetic glance towards Castiel. "I'm sorry."

And that was that. Castiel didn't feel panic as he walked with Dean to the car. There was no fear. No motivation to do something about it. He felt empty.

He wanted to feel.

So when Dean murmured something about Sammy hanging out with friends, Castiel grabbed his hand, making him look over in shock.

"Come to my house," Castiel stated, surprised he could even manage to speak.

Dean only gazed, and nodded. He didn't ask questions- he didn't speak at all. Just a slight squeeze of Castiel's fingers.

When they pulled up to the driveway of his big, brick house, Castiel got out and walked to the front door, listening for the sound of footsteps following him. He grabbed Dean's hand, and brought him inside.

The house was empty- quiet. Castiel pulled Dean to him, and kissed him long and hard, cold hands cradling Dean's face. The blond returned the favor, hands flying up where they settled on Castiel's elbows, gripping on tight. They dropped their backpacks, and Castiel kept up their kisses, pulling Dean in by the lapels of his jacket as he placed kiss upon unrelenting kiss on the blond's lips, chin, jaw, neck.

Dean eventually pulled away, looking into Castiel's eyes with concern. His hair was mussed on the sides where Castiel's hands had been. His skin contained red blotches where Castiel's lips had travelled. A insistent heat probed in Castiel's groin, making him want to continue- to keep up this feeling and drive out the oncoming numbness.

"Cas, are you okay?" Dean asked.

Castiel managed to nod, eyes glancing down to Dean's lips. "My father will not be home until tomorrow morning," he murmured, licking his lips. Dean watched the gesture, eyes suddenly lidded as they gazed downwards. He licked his own lips, now, mimicking Castiel.

With a groan, Castiel pushed forward, kissing Dean slower, now, taking his time to feel the slide of their tongues and the flutter of Dean's fingertips. "Upstairs," he breathed out, looking up into green eyes. Dean nodded, and they went up to Castiel's room, Castiel squeezing Dean's hand tight as he determinedly led him there.

Castiel closed the door behind them, and he pressed Dean against it, kissing him deeply and earning a soft hum in return- one that sunk into the flesh of his tongue and made Castiel grow warm with need. His fingers found the edge of Dean's jacket, and he tugged the blond forward, parting their lips to kiss at his neck. The zipper of Dean's jacket was sharp; metal dug into Castiel's fingers, sinking into the soft skin.

Dean let out a moan, this time, as Castiel licked and sucked and bit gently. "Fuck," Dean gasped as Castiel's hand made its way down, cupping Dean through his jeans, fingers falling back to brush at his balls.

Castiel palmed at Dean until the blond was hard- straining under the denim fabric and squirming against the door he had been pressed into. He returned his lips to Dean's to swallow his moans, and slowly led them back to the bed.

Once they reached it, Castiel shoved Dean's jacket off and sat him down, going to remove his own shirt-

" _Cas-_  wait, stop for a second," Dean breathed out, looking up at Castiel seriously, although his lips were reddened and his eyes were dark with lust. "I need to know if you're okay," he insisted. "I don't want us to do this just because of-"

But Castiel only sat down on Dean's lap, straddling him as he kissed him hard, cradling his face. "I'm fine," he promised. "Really," he added when Dean looked unsure. "Just want you."

And, for further measure, Castiel ground himself into Dean, panting while Dean let out a choked groan in response. Warmth travelled underneath his skin at Dean's wanton noises. "Want to do this," Castiel spoke, dropping his hands from Dean's face as they lingered at the hem of his shirt, lightly tugging.

Dean complied, lifting his arms, and Castiel pulled the top off, flinging it somewhere behind him as his fingers freely roamed over Dean's skin- fingernails skidding upwards where his thumbs grazed over erect nipples. A deep moan made its way to Castiel's ears. Dean was absolutely wrecked, pushing into fingers that tugged and teased and rubbed. Castiel ground himself hard into Dean's groin, taking in the thrust of hips he earned in return.

Now Dean took charge as he reversed their positions, effortlessly removing Castiel's shirt before he laid him down, fitting himself between the teen's legs. Hips connected, and Castiel let out a groan as he felt Dean's cock grind on his own, the heads catching before Dean pulled away with a hiss. Lips latched onto his neck, and Castiel's hands flew to Dean's hair, where his fingers raked through golden locks as he spoke hushed words of encouragement.

Dean sucked at the skin of Castiel's neck, determined to give him as many marks as he had received just moments ago. Lips skidded down from Castiel's love-bit neck (not before licking the reddened flesh), and moved down in a trail, kissing and sucking and-

Castiel let out a moan as Dean's wettened lips wrapped around his nipple- his tongue stimulating the bud. His hips bucked up, and his fingers grasped at the sheets before shakily reaching up to tug at Dean's hair. The expert tease of Dean's tongue had Castiel fully hard and panting, bucking up and searching for Dean's cock, catching it and continuing to grind in that direction-

" _Cas-_ " Dean moaned, hips stuttering before they drew back as Dean tried to catch his breath.

"I want you to fuck me," Castiel spoke, suddenly, catching the blond by surprise.

He looked into Castiel's eyes, searching them.

"Are you sure?" he panted out, brows furrowed with hesitance although his pupils widened at Castiel's words.

Castiel nodded, fingers gripping hard onto Dean's biceps. "Yes. Please, it's okay," he gasped. "Please."

Nodding, Dean's fingers went down where they unbuckled Castiel's belt, opening his jeans quick before he shoved them off, along with his boxers.

Full lips latched around Castiel's cock, and he let out a keening noise as his back arched at the unexpected feeling of Dean's tongue sliding underneath him. Dean didn't waste time teasing- he took Castiel deep, getting him sufficiently wet before he slid off with a pop, proceeding to milk Castiel hard and fast.

Precum oozed messily from the tip of Castiel's cock, and Dean wettened his fingers in it, teasing at Castiel's slit as he made sure to get three of them sufficiently coated slick before spreading Castiel's legs. He looked up, meeting lust filled blue eyes.

"Relax, okay? This'll feel good, just relax."

Castiel nodded, cock aching as he let his head fall back onto a pillow. He didn't feel scared- didn't feel hesitant. He wanted this.

The feeling was a prod, at first. Dean circled one finger around the tight ring of muscle, one hand splayed on Castiel's leg comfortingly. He waited for the content hum before slipping in the tip, worming his way slowly in.

Castiel let out a loud moan, tensing before he settled himself down. Dean's finger wiggled inside him as it went deeper, and the movement went straight to Castiel's cock, making him whisper profanity as he gripped at the sheets.

Before Dean had the whole finger in, Castiel was moaning for more.

Dean looked up, hesitant, but he nodded before pushing all the way in, then pulling out. Castiel whined at the emptiness, but then two fingers were massaging at Castiel's entrance and sliding their way in. He gripped the sheets tighter, cursing under his breath and lifting his head up to watch.

Dean was going slowly, slick fingers going in deep. Castiel accustomed to it quickly, spreading his legs wider as he threw his head back once more. He focused on relaxing, and tried not to fucking come before they got started.

Dean was using his free hand to rub soothing circles onto Castiel's thigh, and soon Castiel was begging Dean to go faster, insisting that  _yes_ he was okay and that he  _needed_ to be filled- that he could handle it. He had practiced, recently- hands fumbling in the middle of the night as he experimented, wondering what it would be like to have Dean down there, filling him up and moving inside him.

It felt a thousand times better than when Castiel did it to himself, and he had to focus on trying not to come when Dean's fingers were moving so expertly, wiggling and scissoring and prodding and then a third wet finger was added and Castiel began wondering if Dean did this to himself- fingered himself and thought of Castiel, just like Castiel had thought of him, coming with Dean's name on his tongue-

" _Dean_ , Dean, fuck,  _ugh_ ," Castiel gasped as his fingers bumped his prostate, sending an electrical surge through him and almost-  _just_   _almost_ pushing him off that edge.

"Now," Castiel ordered, knowing he wouldn't be able to take it, anymore. "Fuck, now,  _please_ , Dean."

The blond nodded, removing his fingers before moving up to place a kiss on Castiel's belly, gripping his cock in his hand and squeezing the base, making Castiel grunt with need as he thrusted pointlessly in Dean's grip. "Alright," he murmured. "Okay, wait, I think I-" he panted before he broke off, grabbing his jacket from the floor with shaky hands and searching through the inside pockets.

And, like a gift, his fingers stumbled upon a condom, pulling it out as he tossed his jacket to the floor with a thud. He unzipped his own jeans. letting out a hiss as he brought down the zipper, releasing his aching cock. He shucked off the rest of his clothes before crawling over on top of Castiel, kissing him hard and lovingly.

He parted their lips, looking into Castiel's eyes seriously, now. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, eyes cleared and searching for any hesitance.

Castiel nodded, confidently, giving Dean another kiss- softer, this time. "Yes. I do, I promise I do."

Giving a nod, Dean parted their lips before kissing Castiel's chin, and pulling away. He opened the condom with shaky fingers, and Castiel felt his heart pound as Dean rolled it on.

Dean's chest was flushed and the mussed hair on his head caught the little amount of daylight in Castiel's room, highlighted along with the muscles of his arms and legs and abdomen. Castiel took a long, good look before glancing up into bright green eyes that were now so darkened the color was hardly there.

Dean positioned himself, and Castiel spread his legs to accommodate him, lifting himself up. A warm hand softly grasped Castiel's thigh, sliding up to his hip and rubbing it soothingly before Dean pushed the head of his cock at Castiel's entrance, sliding it in as gently as he could.

Castiel hissed at the intrusion, but he only nodded Dean on when the blond hesitated. So Dean continued until he was all the way, leaned over Castiel and holding himself still, head bowed and hot breaths gusting out of his full, reddened lips. Castiel adjusted himself, hands fluttering around at the base of Dean's neck as he clenched around Dean's shaft, making the blond grunt with frustration. Castiel relaxed himself, slowly releasing his muscles.

"Move- it's okay, move," Castiel finally panted out, giving Dean a reassuring kiss. "Fuck, Dean,  _move_."

He started with slow, shallow thrusts, trying to gain rhythm as he pumped himself into Castiel, lips moving down where they bit into the skin of the teen's collarbone. The pain soon faded into a distant humming, and now the pleasure of being filled accompanied Castiel, making his fingernails dig into the skin of Dean's back and his voice go raw with moans.

" _So tight_ ," Dean bit out through his teeth, fingers fumbling on Castiel's chest as he ran his nails over erect nipples, earning a buck of hips from the teen beneath him. "So fucking  _hot_ , Cas-  _God_ , you feel so good."

Dean's hand fumbled down, grabbing hold of Castiel's semi-hard cock as he began to pump him back to fullness, fingers moving expertly- teasing at his balls before pumping him fast.

They had obtained a strong pace, now, and Castiel was back on the edge, listening to the noise of Dean's obscene grunts and whispered curses as he thrusted faster, now, aiming for somewhere-

Castiel let out a sharp yell as Dean hit his prostate, and he dug his nails into Dean's skin, moaning things he forgot as soon as they left his lips. Dean tried at that spot, again, thrusting hard and fast towards it as his hand whipped fast, now, urging Castiel closer and closer to the edge.

" _Fuck_ , Cas, I'm close- I'm really close," Dean grunted out, forehead pressed into Castiel's neck as his lips puffed out hot breaths onto Castiel's bitten skin.

"Me, too," Castiel gasped, unable to help but scratch at Dean's back, earning a hiss from the blond. " _God_ , Dean, faster,  _please_."

Castiel's cock was leaking precum, and it wet Dean's hand, creating an obscene noise from between him, connecting with the sounds of a squeaking mattress and whispered curses and insistent thrusting.

He was close. Castiel was so close. And he pushed Dean on, moaning praises and begging him to go faster and  _harder_  and-

With one more hit at his prostate, Castiel was coming, coating Dean's belly with it as everything went white and he yelled in release. He clenched around Dean, who let out a groaned curse.

Dean came right then, stilling inside Castiel as his hips stuttered and he muffled his words into Castiel's skin, fingers gripping tight onto Castiel's hips, now.

They both rode out their release until Dean collapsed wearily on top of Castiel, regaining his breath. They remained like that, fingers fumbling for purchase and lazily grasping onto one another, whispering quiet praises. Eventually, Dean moved his hips up, finally pulling out and earning a whine from the teen as his spent cock twitched at the feeling.

Dean's fingers brushed at Castiel's neck, and he kissed his chest lazily before making his way up and kissing Castiel's lips, cradling his face in a hand.

And then, suddenly, Castiel was crying. He didn't even realize it, at first, until Dean wiped at hot tears and hushed him softly, pulling Castiel close in a tight embrace.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Everything will be okay. We'll be okay."

Castiel was crying harder, now, and he gasped into Dean's neck. "Please don't go. Don't leave me alone."

"I'll never," Dean retorted, gripping on tight to the back of Castiel's head, holding him close. "Not gonna leave you. Never. I promise."

Castiel nodded at that, nosing into Dean's skin where he tried to tame his sobs. "I'm so scared," he admitted after a moment of silence.

"Don't be. I'll take care of you- nobody's gonna touch you, Cas. I swear. I won't fucking let him near you," Dean spoke, his own voice wet, now, as he kissed the top of Castiel's head, gently.

And all Castiel could do was believe him. He'd have to let things unfold, and hope that by the end of it all Dean would still be by his side.


	38. It's Over and Done

It was dreamlike, almost.

There was a sea of faces around him- hundreds upon hundreds of eyes gazing at him with ridicule, astonishment, malice. He was dizzy- his heart pounded, and his body shook, but he put one foot in front of another, step by forced step. Nevertheless, the eyes didn't stop gazing- and, if he were to listen closely, the whispers were just as abundant.

And Castiel felt so very alone.

That was, until he realized he wasn't.

Dean was by his side. So was Jo, Chuck, Charlie, Ash, and Adam. He suddenly  _saw them_ , very much real and very much reassuring as they surrounded him, retaliating against the whispers with defensive glares and curses demanding people to "fuck off", or something of that general language.

Then, suddenly, the crowd wasn't so scary, anymore.

But his father was.

Castiel hadn't seen him, yet. He had gone to Dean's house before he could. There were eleven missed calls, and seven text messages. Castiel had counted it from the vibrations in Dean's desk drawer. The moment it vibrated, Dean took the device and told him to ignore it.

So now Castiel was floating. Today would be the day everything fell apart, and he was  _floating_.

The whispers rose. Jo's hand found Castiel's arm, and she gripped it tight as she led them to the cafeteria. Her touched hummed through his skin and grounded him, and suddenly Castiel wasn't floating, anymore. He was on Earth, walking through school and ignoring people's gazes and trying to bury the nagging feeling that tugged at his gut and  _screamed_ in his head.

This had been happening all day. The whispering- the stares. Apparently, photos had been taped all over Castiel's locker, and Dean's. Jo hadn't let him look, though. She brought an administrator, and had it removed immediately, asking for the school to be searched for the photos.

It hadn't been too effective. And, of course, Castiel inevitably ended up seeing one on a bulletin board outside of his third period class.

It was a blurry picture, but still easily decipherable. The scenery of the parking lot stuck out- cars and pavement and the gray wash of the sky and the dull brick of the building. Away from a door, and almost hidden, were two boys. It was almost obviously Castiel and Dean, and yet again the teen cursed himself for being so reckless.

He didn't freak out, though. It was over and done with. He kept thoughts of his father out of his head, promising himself he'd do so until the last possible second.

Instead, he tore the photo down, tossing it in a nearby bin and feeling his cheeks redden with rage as whispers heightened.

There was always fucking whispering.

The cafeteria was loud. Upon the group's arrival, however, all talk seized. Humming pursued. Castiel's heart sped up.

Halfway to their table, Castiel's breath caught in his throat, and nauseating energy hummed through him, tightening his muscles and quickening his heart beat-

_Badump, bump, bump, badump, bump, bump, bump, bump, bump, bump-_

Dean recognized the signals immediately. It didn't take long for the others to notice, as well. They all stopped, and Dean's hand found Castiel's shoulder.

The whispering grew louder- Castiel could detect it over the pounding of his heart.

"Cas," Dean whispered, leaning close. "Hey, man, let's sit down, okay? Everything is fine."

But everything wasn't fine. Soon Castiel would lose Dean and his other friends, and his father would lock him up forever, and  _Castiel was panicking._

Dean looked around them. "Give him some space, you guys," he advised their friends, calmly, although his voice was laced with hidden panic that Castiel had learned to detect. They backed up a foot, but nothing more- seeming hesitant on straying too far. Castiel didn't blame them, and neither did Dean. Castiel's breathing was labored, everything was turning blurry around him.

Whispering morphed into loud murmuring and some indecipherable taunts and offensive calls. Dean looked at Castiel.

And Castiel  _couldn't breathe._

He didn't know how it happened, but suddenly Dean was kissing him and Castiel was grasping Dean's arms, and  _whispers turned into shouts and loudness,_ and Castiel didn't need to breathe, anymore, because now he was filled with heat and air, and not even the astonished curses and yells that reached his ears changed that.

There were a few cheers and minimal applause, of course. Castiel almost wished he knew who they were, but all he could manage to focus on was Dean's warmth and the hard press of his lips holding him down and forcing him to calm and to settle his breaths. Noise faded and melted into the feeling of Dean's calloused hands strongly yet gently cradling his face and  _everything really was okay._

Just like Dean said it'd be.

Teachers shouted at the students to calm down, but the chatter only grew louder and plentiful and then hands were grasping at Castiel's shoulders and pulling him away from Dean, and a voice ordered him to return to his seat or he'd be "sent to the principal", but Castiel couldn't find it in himself to care because now he was smiling and happy and  _alive._

Dean shrugged out of the hands that grasped him. Once he was free and the teachers had backed off, he grabbed Castiel's hand and raised his other one, flipping off the whole of the cafeteria before he and Castiel were being yelled at to sit down.

The cafeteria was chaotic, and it didn't settle down- news spread and the excited hum would fill the halls and classrooms the entirety of the day.

If this were to be the last moment Castiel had with Dean, he found that he really wouldn't mind.

* * *

There was no music on the ride home. Dean had Sam go home with Andy, and then drove straight to Castiel's house. His heart was pounding and his hands were sweating, and the strong hum of the Impala was Dean's only source of comfort as he sped through streets and cut through stoplights.

Castiel didn't make it to seventh period. Nobody knew where he was. Not Jo, Adam, Ash, Chuck, or Charlie had seen him after lunch.

Castiel had just disappeared.

Dean tried calling, but the line went dead every one of the sixteen times he tried. His text messages went unreplied, and the same went for when the rest of the group tried. Nobody knew where he could be.

But Dean had a gut wrenching feeling that he knew exactly where the teen was being kept.

And it was with an ache in his jaw and a heaviness of his bones that Dean made his way over to face Mr. Novak.

Dean had made a promise to Castiel. And he intended to keep it.


	39. I Will Pass

Castiel could now say he fully understood the true feeling of the term "to freeze with dread".

A horribly piercing cold enveloped him when a student walked into his class with a note from the front office requesting him to leave early.

His pale and shaking fingers accepted the note as his teacher handed it to him, and he shifted his backpack on his shoulders as he left the room behind. Talk almost instantly pursued as he closed the door behind him. He could hear it spill from the cracks of the door and leak into the hallway. But Castiel found that he did not care. The teasing from his fellow classmates was minimal in his troubled mind compared to what he was about to face.

Almost the instant he walked out, Castiel debated on texting Dean or the others for help. He was scared and alone and he did not want to confirm what he knew he was about to see. What he knew he was about to face.

But then doubt crawled into his mind, whispering thoughts of hesitance into his subconscious. Everyone had done so much for him, Castiel couldn't ask them to do  _this_ , as well.

No. This was Castiel's fight. And he had to go through it alone.

With a nod to himself, and a square of his shoulders, Castiel made his way to the front office, internally demanding his anxiety to calm and his fists to stop shaking and his stomach to stop flipping. Although he knew what would happen, and mentally prepared himself, fright still overtook him when he saw his father's tall figure waiting for him by the front desk.

Mr. Novak gave Castiel a smile, for show. "It's time for your doctor appointment," he said, loud enough for the adults nearby to hear. "Let's go."

Castiel almost debated on running away, at that moment. He wanted to protest and yell and tell the teachers only a few feet away from him what would really happen to him if he were to leave with his father. There were so many adults around- weren't they supposed to help him? Wasn't Castiel supposed to be able to ask them for safety?

But Castiel didn't do any of that. Instead, he nodded solemnly before following his father, jolting when a hand lightly touched the small of his back.

He was lead to the car. No words were exchanged, and Castiel would've almost thought he did have some untold doctor appointment, if they hadn't missed the turn to the clinic.

They were going home.

As if "home" were really the appropriate term.

Castiel gazed out the window of his father's car and searched for the smudges that Dean's car had- the familiar sink of leather, and Sam's books that almost constantly filled the back. This car didn't have any of that. It was pristine and unblemished, and there were no smudges whatsoever on the glass- not even the slightest sign of uncleanliness touched the vehicle.

And, with a bitter pang in his gut, Castiel realized that he might have to get used to it. Perhaps this morning, an event that seemed so long ago, would be the last time he sat in the Impala- the last time he'd smell its pine scent and feel the cardboard box of cassette tapes nudging at his leg from its place on the floor.

All that he had gained- his friends, his relationship, his  _happiness_ \- it would all be taken away unless he made a stand.

But Castiel didn't know if he had the strength to stand up to someone he had lived under for so long- someone who had forced him into fear and submission and depression and anxiety. He couldn't do it, he wasn't  _big enough_. Not without Jo's strength and Charlie's courage and Adam's determination and Chuck's words and Ash's wit and Dean's  _love_. He couldn't help himself, he had none of these things. He wasn't as strong and amazing as his friends. He needed them by his side, he needed their reassurances and their protection.

But he'd never have them back if he didn't change things, now. He'd be alone and shut away and lost, just like he was all those months ago.

Now, as Castiel walked out the car and breathed in the warm May air, he realized what he had to do. He'd have to keep his sanity- he'd  _have_ to stand up to his father and he couldn't give into the darkness that was already consuming his mind. He'd have to  _try_.

The door closed behind them as they stepped inside. The house was lit with the light of the day. It seemed almost barren- as though nobody had been in it for years. The air conditioner was lightly thrumming, driving out the warmth of spring, and beckoning the return of a cold winter. Castiel shivered underneath his thin jacket, feeling colder with the presence of his father's gaze boring into his back.

His breath caught in his throat- a pathetically weak hitch of muscle- as the deep voice finally spoke.

"Face me, Castiel."

Barring the tears that threatened to burn at his eyes, Castiel took a quick breath before he turned to look at his father.

Disgust was the first thing Castiel saw. It stood out on his father's face- wrinkling his nose and making his eyebrows draw together, angrily. Castiel's hands rose to his chest where his fists clenched in an instinctive defense. He knew that look. He knew this wouldn't end well.

But he had to keep his mind. He had to stay clear and focused. He  _could not_ give into his insecurities.

So, despite the danger of doing so, he spoke first.

"Please, let me explain-"

A hand rose, threatening to strike, and Castiel ducked away, lifting his hands to his face.

"I  _did not_ ask you to speak."

Castiel shut his mouth, lowering shaky hands back down to his chest as he gazed wide-eyed at his father. He forced himself to calm down- to try his hardest not to be afraid.

"You are a sinning  _abomination_ ," Mr. Novak hissed, glaring down at his son. Nostrils were flared and dark eyes were almost bugging out of his head. "I know what you've done."

Castiel shook his head, feeling tears gather, now. He used all his strength to push them back- to set his jaw, and keep his expression neutral. "I'm not," he spoke strongly, although his voice shook. "You don't understand."

A slap clean on his face silenced him, bringing a ringing in his ears and redness to his vision as his neck snapped to the side against the force of the blow.

" _I did not ask you to_ _speak!"_ his father yelled, now. He lowered his voice before he spoke, again. "Did you do it?"

Catching his breath, Castiel looked up, resisting the urge to cradle his burning cheek. "Do what?"

His father looked downright lethal as he continued. "Don't play stupid. I got the call from your principal. She explained to me what happened," his father growled darkly as he advanced closer towards his son. He looked ready to hit, again, when he finally asked his question. "Did you  _lie with a man_ , Castiel?" he spat out, seeming disgusted at uttering the words.

Castiel was silent. His father had been told about the locker, and all that had been written on it. He knew, and Castiel couldn't lie about this, and  _oh my god he wasn't strong enough to do this on his own._ He gazed up at his father and then looked down, his breathing advancing as he prepared himself. Everything grew blurry, and his throat burned with anxiety. He flattened his lips and let a few tears shed before he spoke.

"Yes," he whispered.

His father didn't touch him. He hardly wanted to look at him. Instead, he spoke, again.

"You will go to church tomorrow morning and beg for forgiveness," he ordered, talking to Castiel as if he were a disgusting, incompetent animal. "And you will pray that it shall be granted to you. You  _may_   _not_  leave this house under any circumstances other than to attend church and school. You will quit your job,  _instantly_. You may  _never_  go out, and you will stay away from that  _disgusting_ -"

"No," Castiel spoke up, shaking his head, now, as he pushed his tears back and drew quivering lips into a line so hard he began to draw blood. He looked back up at his father. "I'm not going to do that."

A glare. " _Excuse me?_ "

"Dean has not hurt me. He has been kinder to me than you ever have. I will not quit my job and I will not stay away from Dean or my friends. I'm tired of  _this!_  And I'm tired of  _you!_ " Castiel yelled, now, his body shaking with anger and fear and adrenaline. His heart was racing faster than he could ever recall, pumping blood throughout his system and making his whole body hum with fright. He expected the hit that landed on his cheek, and he didn't bother to step back, since his father was pushing him, now.

"You should be grateful!" his father yelled, shoving Castiel, again. "I'm saving you from the devil!  _I'm saving you from damnation!_ Lucifer will take you and you will never get to see your mother, again!"

"Don't," Castiel uttered, shaking his head as he backed away a step to avoid his father's assaults. To avoid his words. "Don't bring her into this."

"She would be disappointed," his father continued, ignoring Castiel's pleas. "First you kill her and now you throw yourself at hellfire. You are unworthy of this family, and you are unworthy of the name that she has graced you with!"

"You're wrong! She would be happy for me!" Castiel yelled, tears falling freely, now. "She would not be upset! She'd hate  _you!_  She'd hate what you've become!"

And that was the final straw. The next thing Castiel knew, he was on the ground, blood trickling down his face and an intense ache in his left wrist, where it was wedged painfully underneath a glass table he seemed to have crashed into.

Ringing filled his ears. Broken glass littered the ground- covering his clothes and the hardwood in glittering shards. Castiel could feel some wedged into his skin, piercing and drawing out blood. He could barely detect his father's voice, which was less angry and more on the brink of panic, now.

"Get up, now!" he ordered, pushing at Castiel's limp body to get him to wake. When Castiel stirred, he hissed at the pain that shot up his arm, pulsing at his wrist. His father shoved the table off of him, and hauled him up by his good arm.

"You're fine," he grunted, shoving Castiel away, roughly. He stumbled before he caught himself. "Give me your phone and go to your room," his father ordered, his voice wavering ever so slightly. "Get yourself cleaned up and stay upstairs until I tell you so."

Nodding, and too weak to argue, Castiel gave his father his cell phone, and then trudged to the stairs, climbing them slowly so as not to adjust any of the glass he had sticking in him.

A sharp headache pierced through Castiel's skull, causing him to wince as he walked into his room and closed the door. He kicked off his shoes, and proceeded to gingerly strip out of his jacket as he walked into the bathroom.

Glass littered his clothes- more than Castiel expected. It mostly covered his left side and leg- the only part of his face that had been cut was his forehead. With incredible carefulness, Castiel took to carefully stripping off his shirt and pants, shaking each out over his trashcan until the glass was mostly removed.

His wrist screamed with pain towards every movement put against it, so Castiel held it against his chest, where it hung limp and bruising. Every movement he made was ginger, accompanied with small hisses of pain.

Eventually, Castiel cleaned himself up, finding some gauze underneath his sink and wrapping his wrist, biting his lip hard to hold back his moans of pain. Blood drew to add to the cuts that already covered his lips, and he swiped his tongue over it as he finished, panting with exhaustion and falling limp against the wall of his bathroom.

Castiel's wrist was burning underneath its wrap, pulsing hot fire through his veins and making him whimper with pain. It felt broken.  _He_ felt broken.

Getting up slowly, Castiel slipped on a t-shirt and sweatpants, then collapsed in his bed and let sleep take him.

* * *

When Dean pulled into Castiel's driveway, his heart was absolutely pounding. He had no idea what to prepare himself for, and, in all honesty, he never really thought he and Cas would get to this point. They had been playing things safe. At times, it didn't even seem like they were together. They were quiet, they kept to themselves.

It was just that one slip up. That one,  _goddamn_  slip up.

How did something so small manage to tear everything apart? How could this all go to pieces over a kiss in a parking lot?  
No. It wouldn't. Dean wouldn't let this happen.

So, drawing a breath into his lungs, Dean made his way to the front door of the giant, brick house. After a few seconds of gazing at the doorbell, Dean pressed it.

All was quiet for a few moments. Then, heavy thuds of footsteps made its way to Dean's hearing, and the door lock clicked open.

He was met with a rather flustered looking Mr. Novak, and Dean had to remember to let out the air from his lungs.

"Uh, hello, Mr. Novak," he began, peeking behind him and into the house, quickly. "Is Castiel home? I, uh, I need to talk to him."

Castiel's father squinted angrily at Dean, closing the door slightly and using his tall body to bar the doorway. "I don't want you near him anymore," he hissed, sounding nearly murderous.

Dean's eyes widened, but he forced himself to stay in place. "Why's that?" he asked, trying to play dumb.

Mr. Novak seemed to grow taller with his rage. Dean felt insignificant under the man's stature. "I found out what you've been doing. You've tainted him. You've condemned him to hell, and I do not want you to come to this house, to touch him, or speak with him,  _ever_."

Dean grew frantic, now, and he tried to keep his composure. "Sir, this is all just a misunders-"

"Get away from my house or I'm calling the police," Mr. Novak threatened.

"I know what you do to him," Dean suddenly blurted out, without thinking. The consequences- what might happen to Castiel didn't even cross Dean's mind as he spoke. He just  _didn't want to lose him_. "I've seen the bruises. I've seen what you've done to him, and how you've hurt him," Dean rambled on, trying not to let his voice break as he strengthened his posture. He locked eyes with Mr. Novak's dark, surprised ones. "Cas is too scared to call the cops, but I'm not. I'm not afraid to send your ass straight to jail," Dean threatened, although he was using all his power not to shake with fright.

Mr. Novak's shock was replaced with a condescending smirk, almost startling Dean out of his composure. He bent down to Dean's level, now, making the blond nearly step back. But he held his ground.

"Isn't that something?" the tall man asked, mockingly. "Now, listen to me, Mr. Winchester, and listen close," he drawled, boring fire into Dean's eyes with his intense stare. "Bringing me to court is not a game you'd like to play. I know more about you than you think. The things you've done… the cover-ups your father installed for your protection," he hissed, smiling as Dean blanched. "And I can find out more. I have connections you would not believe. And, you? You haven't got  _anything_  on me. But, why don't you go on ahead and try?" he sneered, drinking up the sudden defeat on Dean's face. "You can say whatever you like. Tell whoever you want. But, just so we're  _clear_  on this, let me explain to you, now- nice and slow," Mr. Novak spoke, observing Dean as if he were a small, incompetent child. "You. Will.  _Lose_."

Dean didn't have any words. He was shocked and cold and he  _didn't know what to say._

Mr. Novak stood up, now, glancing about the neighborhood. "Now, I suggest you run along." His eyes met Dean's once more. "And remember what I said. May God help your damned soul, Mr. Winchester."

Then the door closed, and Dean was left staring at dark oak wood.

Suddenly, rage boiled within him, and it took all of Dean's willpower not to kick the door down and drag Castiel out of there, himself. Instead, he stalked to the Impala and kicked hard at the wheel, earning a screaming pain in his toes that he payed no mind to as he got inside the car.

For the first time in his life, Dean Winchester had no idea what to do.

* * *

A voice rung out from the haze. Everything was hot- boiling at his skin and climbing up his throat in lava-like spouts. The air was thick with heat, and Castiel choked as he tried to breathe clearness into his lungs.

He couldn't clear the fog.

"Castiel, up," a deep voice ordered, growing clearer the more consciousness came. "We're going to church. Get up."

Castiel's eyes fluttered open, and he let out a weak hum of recognition. His father appeared blurry, and Castiel murmured for his glasses but the word came out jumbled, almost indecipherable.

Dark eyes looked worried, something Castiel wasn't used to seeing in them. A thick hand placed itself on Castiel's forehead, then pulled back, sharply.

"Up," Castiel's father barked, now. "Sit up," he ordered, pulling Castiel by his good arm.

Castiel whimpered in pain, the world spinning from his new position. His head hammered with a migraine, and he felt hot-  _too hot_.

"Dad- hurts," Castiel murmured as he tried not to lie back down on his bed. "Let go, please," he begged as his father inspected his frail wrist.

A stream of curse words exited the man's mouth, and once he let go Castiel cradled his arm to him, holding it protectively against his chest, the limb pulsing underneath his makeshift cast.

"We need to go to the ER," his father spoke, getting off the bed and tossing a jacket and jeans in Castiel's direction. "Get dressed and come downstairs, quick."

And, at that, Castiel was alone, trying to mull over what had just happened. He pulled on his clothes and made his way downstairs, gripping on tight to the rail of the stairway in order not to fall. His father was waiting for him in the living room, pacing fervently.

When Castiel approached, Mr. Novak looked irritated. "I told you to be quick," he snapped, grabbing Castiel's arm and yanking him towards the door, his free hand grasping his keys from a hook by the door. Castiel stumbled to keep up with his father and not throw up at the same time. He felt hot in his skin, and everything around him was spinning far too much for his own liking.

His father helped him into the car (or, rather, shoved), something Castiel wasn't quite used to. He murmured a thanks as he sat down before he lolled his head to the side, eyelids heavy and falling.

"This is your fault," Mr. Novak hissed, pulling out of the driveway and accelerating the car through the streets. His tone served to waking Castiel, momentarily. "You sinned, and now God is punishing you."

Castiel nodded weakly, head shifting against the seat as he tried to stay conscious. His arm was burning. He was shivering, now.

"You're being tested. He's showing you the heat of hell fire. You need to pass His test, Castiel."

"I know," Castiel croaked, breath exhaling from his throat in a show of heat. "I will."

And they didn't speak further on the matter. Once they arrived at the ER, Mr. Novak all but carried Castiel inside, and Castiel wasn't even sure if his show of concern was genuine or not as he talked to the receptionist at the desk.

Luckily for them (and mostly due to Mr. Novak's persistence and authority), there was no wait, and Castiel was taken into a room to receive an x-ray. It appeared he had slightly torn a few ligaments, and "luckily" (as the doctor had put it), he didn't break anything.

Mr. Novak played it out as nothing, explaining that Castiel had been playing soccer when he fell down on his hand, and that his son had insisted he was fine until this morning. The doctor believed him easily enough, and Castiel wanted to slap himself as he nodded along to his father's story, almost believing it, himself.

The doctor continued to explain that the fever had arrived from prolonged avoidance of treatment, blah, immune system, blah, blah- Castiel momentarily blanked through the explanation as he tried not to die in his fever-induced haze. The doctor wrapped up Castiel's hand efficiently before applying a brace onto it, and instructed him on how to tend to it until it heals. It almost frightened Castiel how he didn't feel any sort of remorse being told it would take six to eight weeks to heal, and another few months to rehabilitate. He felt as if those future months were nonexistent- as if his timeline had stopped the moment his father took him home from school on Friday.

After receiving his paper prescriptions (which included painkillers and pills for infection, fever, swelling, etc.), Castiel's father finally took Castiel home, helping him into bed and instructing him to sleep as he went off to retrieve the medicine.

Castiel fell into a slumber the moment his head hit the pillow.

* * *

A warmth woke up Castiel. It wasn't a feverish heat of any sort, but a comforting one. Castiel almost called out Dean's name before he caught himself, knowing better. "Wake up, Castiel, you need to take your medicine," a strong, almost caring, voice commanded.

Castiel hadn't heard that voice in years.

"Dad?" he murmured, opening his eyes to the sight of a glass of water and three pills.

"Take these."

He did, swallowing them one by one, under his father's watchful eye. "Show me," his father ordered.

Sighing, Castiel opened his mouth. His father nodded.

"I will give you the pills when you need them," his father spoke dismissively, getting off of Castiel's bed. He wasn't wearing a suit, as he normally would at this time of day. Instead, he was clad in an office button-up, untucked, and a pair of black pants to accompany it. It wasn't casual in the least, but, for Castiel's father, it may as well have been pajamas.

Castiel's eyes drooped.

"Don't sleep. You need to eat," Mr. Novak instructed, walking out of the room. "I will bring you your food."

Confused and slightly taken aback, Castiel nodded, propping himself up against the wall behind his bed. He instinctively reached to his nightstand for a book, but retreated his hand when it landed upon the one Dean had given him.

He chose, instead, to gaze up at the ceiling and try not to panic.

He'd see Dean on Monday. It was their last school week, then the next one would be finals.

Castiel was supposed to help Sam study. He was supposed to spend the week with his friends at Dean's house, doing a group study session.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Had Dean tried visiting? Had he cared, at all?

 _Of course he did_ , Castiel reprimanded himself.  _Why wouldn't he?_

Holding back a groan of frustration, Castiel pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes to stop his tears. What had his father said to Dean? Had his father even answered the door, at all? Or was Dean just left with unanswered questions?

Castiel needed to speak with him. He needed his phone back- he couldn't wait until Monday.

But a voice in his head told him he'd have to. There was no way he'd be able to convince his father to be that flexible, even in his current state.

When Mr. Novak returned to the room, he had a bowl of soup and a fresh glass of water with him. He placed the water on the nightstand and handed the bowl to Castiel.

"Eat."

Castiel obliged, scooping spoonful upon spoonful of chicken soup into his mouth under his father's watchful gaze. He had to pause at one point, though, when he felt as though he was going to eject the little amount he had eaten. It's not that it wasn't appetizing, but more of that everything wouldn't stop spinning around him.

"It's a test," his father kept murmuring. "It's a test."

"It's a test," Castiel repeated, nodding.

"You just need to pass His test, Castiel."

"I'll pass, I promise."

The soup went down easier, now.

* * *

The rest of the weekend was almost surreal. It was as though Castiel were living with a younger version of his father- one from before everything changed.

Well. almost.

Of course, there were inevitable glimpses of the truth. The way he tried to brainwash Castiel with talk of hell and his sins. How he made Castiel pray every night, and watched him to make sure he did so correctly. How he made Castiel attend church bright and early, despite the fact that he was still weak from fever. It was toxic, Castiel knew that. But he couldn't help but enjoy the attention his father was giving him. He couldn't help but seek out more of that approval as hopes for Dean and his friends slithered further and further away, and became more and more like a distant dream.

When Monday came, though, Castiel was snapped back into reality. He wasn't in his home- he wasn't praying to God. He was back where everything hurt. His father took him to school- a long and very uncomfortable drive- and reminded him of what they'd talked about over the weekend. He told Castiel he'd pick him up as soon as school was over before driving off.

Castiel felt robotic. He wasn't quite in his mind, and everything seemed like a dream. The teasing picked up, again- far more heated and intense than it had ever been, before. Castiel didn't see his friends anywhere as he walked to homeroom, and he had to remind himself that he hadn't been transported back to the start of the school year. He had to remind himself that  _all of this had happened._

Dean Winchester was real.

He was real.

He was real.

He  _had_ to be.

Castiel was pushed and shoved, and he absorbed it like a sponge, not retaliating and just accepting of the words and assaults and blows. He couldn't focus on anything. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know  _who_ he was.

His legs walked with a mind of their own. And, right when he was outside of homeroom, he heard a distinctive voice.

"Cas!"

Castiel almost shrunk with fright at hearing his name called. Dean was real. He was real and he was here and-

 _Sin._   _Don't give in to sin._

But Castiel turned around mindlessly, aching to just see the face that he had almost forgotten within the span of two days.

And there was Dean- tired and worried-looking, and suddenly smiling brightly at Castiel's attention. All Castiel could manage to do was not crumple to the ground with fear and hope and want and the  _war_ between all the voices in his head.

But Dean's touch was like light as his palms settled on Castiel's shoulders- as his fingers dipped into Castiel's skin. It conquered the dark that had started to burrow within him, and Castiel was just so  _frightened_ at how easily he had let it in- how simply it had begun to conquer his life in such a short amount of time.

And Castiel had to bar the tears that burned at his eyes as everything was suddenly clear. He reached his hands up to cradle Dean's face, letting the voices that screamed and shouted and shrieked " _SIN!"_ continue on  _ignored_ , now, and instead embracing the light that Dean possessed- the utter calm and wholeness that he bestowed upon Castiel- and  _how could something like this be sin?_

Castiel smiled, now, quivering lips stretching wide as he just gazed at Dean. He didn't speak, and, for a moment, he was afraid he forgot how. But he didn't need words. Dean could instantly see all the damage that had been done, and his smile slowly fell as he observed Castiel's face- the bruise that littered across his cheek.

Then, as Castiel's hands fell, he saw the brace.

Green eyes were suddenly filled with rage and hate, and Castiel could feel his heart tear in two. It wasn't right- those eyes were supposed to bring him  _calm._

Dean grasped onto Castiel's arm- gently, despite his anger. Then he spoke.

"I'm going to kill him," he hissed, eyes averting upwards, and suddenly seeming to really take in the bruise on Castiel's cheek, the way he looked just as he had when they first met- unsure and anxious and scared. "Oh my fucking God," he whispered, seeming devastated, now.

Castiel shook his head, frantic. "Dean, no, he didn't mean it- it was an accident, I promise," Castiel defended, eyes flicking around at the crowd of students that walked around them, some lingering to holler a few demeaning insults.

Dean took no note of their surroundings. He seemed lost for words. "Why are you defending him?" Dean asked. "Look at what he did to you!"

"He's sorry," Castiel explained. "He took me to the doctor and made sure I was okay-"

"Because he was  _guilty!_ " Dean exclaimed, hushing when he remembered where they were. "Cas, you need to get away from him. Just- just come home with me. We can call the police, and-"

"No," Castiel replied. "No, he's changed. He's been taking care of me."

"He wouldn't let me see you," Dean told him, gripping onto Castiel's shoulders as he gazed intently at him. "Cas, he threatened me. He's hurting you. He's trying to fuck up your head and you're  _letting_ him!"

"He's my family," Castiel tried, voice falling weak.

Dean stared hard into Castiel's eyes. Then he lifted Castiel's injured wrist. "Family doesn't do  _this_  to family."

Castiel glanced at his wrist before he searched Dean's eyes, trying to find words to say. Before he could speak, though, a voice rang in the halls, chilling Castiel straight to the bone.

"Hey, Cassie!" the smug tone began. Alastair was heading towards them, a couple of his friends flocking either side of him. "Looks like you two are the talk of the school!"

"Fuck off, Alastair," Dean snarled, suddenly twirling to face him. He let go of Castiel, now, and fixed a glare at their threat, his body instinctively positioned slightly in front of Castiel, although it did little to ease the teen's fright.

"What?" Alastair exclaimed. "No 'thank yous'? I worked so hard to make your coming out memorable!"

Castiel clenched onto the sleeve of Dean's jacket, trying to subtly pull him back as he looked around for his friends. But there were no friends around him- only enemies, and people who wanted to hurt them.

They were alone.

"I said  _fuck off_ ," Dean growled, stepping closer, now. He was angry, and Castiel could tell that it wouldn't take much for him to let it out on the nuisance.

And, right when Alastair was about to retaliate, someone stepped between them.

"Keep walking, Alastair," Lisa spoke, arms crossed. Her own friends gathered close, barring Alastair's group from Castiel and Dean.

Alastair raised an eyebrow, seeming amused as he let out a laugh, along with his friends. "What are  _you_  gonna do, skank?"

But Lisa wasn't phased. Her arms fell by her side, and she got face-to-face with the bully.

"Do you know how  _pathetic_  you are?" she spoke, voice steely. "You used to be a good person, Alastair. You used to be a genuinely good person. But now you're just  _sad_. It's like the only thing that holds any significance in your life is hurting others."

Alastair's eyes grew cold, and he lifted his head up, indignantly, looking down at the girl. "You don't fucking know anything about me," he spoke.

"I know who you used to be," Lisa retaliated, not backing down. "I remember when you were actually worth something. And I hope to God that you'll find some meaning in your sad, sad life. Because you're just sinking lower and lower into filth, and you're not doing anything to help yourself."

Alastair's jaw clenched, but he hid it with a smirk, and averted his eyes to Dean. "Got a girl fighting your fights now, Winchester?" he asked, shouldering Lisa away as he walked forward, past Dean and Cas. "You're even more of a loser than I thought. Although, I didn't expect much else from a fag."

And then Alastair was gone, along with his goons, and Dean and Cas were left gazing incredibly at Lisa Braeden, who now gave the two a once over.

"We've got your backs, okay?" Lisa spoke for her and her friends, who smiled comfortingly- reassuringly. Lisa was looking at the two with a fondness Castiel had never seen before.

And Castiel only barely caught Dean's warm smile and nod. "Thank you," he spoke.

Lisa nodded and averted her gaze at Castiel, now, giving him a smile before walking off.

Castiel was left with a sense that maybe they weren't so alone, after all.


	40. Screams

War was taking place in Castiel's mind- clawing and leaving imprints within the susceptible flesh of his brain. He did not know which voices were his own, anymore- which thoughts he fabricated with threads of his mind, alone. The less and less he saw his friends, the more his father's influence overtook him, and the quicker he began to lose his sanity, his being, his conception of right and wrong. Not even Dean's touch and presence- something he had needed more than air the first few days- helped, anymore.

This was bigger than him. It was bigger than all of them.

Castiel was losing his mind, once again.

Voices came to him in the night. Sometimes they screamed, and sometimes they whispered haunting taunts into his ear. He'd wake up more often than not in the middle of the night- soaked in sweat and crying out to a God that didn't answer.

His father was home every day. He didn't let any of Castiel's friends inside, no matter how much they all tried. Their efforts were restless. More often than not, Castiel would have two visitors a day after school. When Charlie appeared at his door one day with the excuse of bringing Castiel homework he had forgotten, Mr. Novak refused to let her inside, lying and telling her Castiel was still feeling weak from his illness, and that he did not want any guests. In all reality, Castiel was crouched at the midsection of the stairs, eavesdropping and trying with all his might not to run over to the door and take control of the situation, himself.

After that, his father just stopped answering the door.

The ringing of doorbell was almost haunting.

The group was concerned. They expressed it as Castiel grew paler, thinner, and more worn as the days drew by. He told them he was fine- he told them he was fixing things with his father, and that everything was really, really working out. And he ignored Dean's almost angry stare- the way he'd constantly bring up calling the police on Castiel's father every time they were alone.

In all honesty, the only reason Mr. Novak hadn't been arrested was because Castiel begged Dean not to do anything. They had an all out fight on the last day of school before finals week. Shouts were exchanged and accusations were made, and it pushed them further apart- it tucked Castiel deeper, and deeper into the corner of his mind where voices screamed and warned him of sin.

They grew distant- Dean was angry and confused, and maybe even scared, Castiel supposed. He knew Dean wanted to take control- wanted to try and help. It was in his nature. And not being able to do so was making him grow more and more frustrated as the days went by.

Then the fatal news came.

"I'm moving," Dean told the table solemnly, on the last official day of school. They had all finished their finals and were talking excitedly about throwing a party to celebrate. Everyone stopped eating and talking, though. All eyes averted to Dean, and glanced at Castiel. Nobody dared to breathe, the teens were all trying to fully digest the information Dean had given them.

"Where?" Chuck gasped, the first to speak. His blue eyes were wide with shock. He stuttered before he continued. " _When?_ "

"Colorado. My dad wants us out this Sunday," Dean murmured so quietly Castiel was shocked everyone heard him. It grew deadly silent at their table.

Castiel felt his heart drop.

Sunday. He only had until Sunday.

" _Sunday?_ " Adam exclaimed, seeming angry and almost horrified. "That's-"

"It's too soon!" Jo finished, looking devastated. "Since when, why-  _when_  did you guys decide you were going to  _move?_ "

Dean squirmed in his seat, glancing at Castiel before looking at the wood of the table, ashamed. "A while back, actually. I- Sammy and I we, uh, we tried to change my dad's mind, but," a heavy shrug lifted and dropped his shoulders. He smirked humorlessly, glancing upwards and then avoiding his friends' eyes before he spoke, again. "When my dad has his mind set on something, he does it."

 _But he wasn't going to_ , Castiel thought. Sam and Dean had been so close to convincing their dad to let them stay. But after the call from school, John figured out about Dean and Castiel. Apparently, according to a text from Sam, he hadn't taken it well.

And now he was set on taking his kids away from Lawrence. Away from Castiel.

They were so close. Everything could have been fine. They could have been together.

"Dean," Ash spoke up, his shoulders weighed down with the news, "dude, you  _can't_."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Charlie spoke, now. Her eyes were glassy. "Wha- you're only here for  _two more days,_ " she exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed. "You… you should've  _told us_."

"I know," Dean spoke up, looking at Charlie apologetically, now. He kept up eye contact with her before giving the rest of a group an ashamed glance. "I'm really sorry, you guys. I… I didn't know how to say it."

He didn't even look at Castiel. He didn't have to. The dark-haired teen was looking down, holding back the screams he wanted to let out and the tears that clawed and burned at the back of his throat. He could feel Dean glance at him, now. He could feel the rest of table's looks, too.

A hand placed itself on Castiel's knee, giving it a light squeeze. It felt numb, though. All of the warmth Dean used to bring was gone. Charlie's hand found Castiel's good one, instead, and she pried it off of where it was clenched hard in his lap, curling her fingers around Castiel's sweaty ones. Her thumb rubbed over the marks his nails had made when they had bit into his skin, and he allowed himself to breathe, now, as he looked up, giving the group a smile.

None of them smiled back. He only received looks of sadness and sympathy.

A voice spoke up in Castiel's head. It was a taunting and familiar voice. He remembered how it haunted him in the beginning of the year, when he had first met his friends. It was the one that told him, months ago,  _good things don't last for you_.

It was almost ironic, in fact. Because it was  _right_.

Nothing good could ever last for Castiel Novak.

And nothing ever would.

* * *

Dean and Castiel met outside, hidden in a spot where nobody could see, but still close enough to where Castiel's dad was impatiently waiting in his car in front of the school. His phone (which his father only allowed him to have in school) buzzed with insistent messages, and each vibration sent Castiel into a fit of fear. But he suppressed it, and tried to listen to what Dean had to say.

"I can still visit," the blond supplied, breaking the horrible silence that seemed to last the past two weeks. "I'll drive here every damn weekend if I have to," Dean told him, trying to inch closer into the barrier Castiel had created between them. Castiel stepped back, ducking his head and biting hard on his lower lip as he looked off to the side. He shook his head vigorously, and Dean looked broken.

"I  _tried_ , Cas, I really did," Dean spoke, voice hitching as he tried to look into Castiel's eyes. "I mean, I  _begged_. I begged him to let us stay, and I tried everything I could, but he  _wouldn't listen to me_."

"I shouldn't have believed you," Castiel whispered, looking into Dean's eyes, then quickly away, focusing on a tree and trying so hard not to let the bark blur with tears. "I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up."

"It was wrong of me to promise I'd stay here," Dean admitted, reaching out in a weak attempt to grab Castiel's hand. He inched out of the touch. Dean's yanked back to his side, as if he'd burned it. "But I'm  _not_  leaving you, not really," the blond explained. "I'll still be with you- we'll still be together. We can  _still fix this_."

"There is no way we can fix this," Castiel murmured, breath going short as he realized the reality of his words. "You'll be gone."

Dean looked so defeated. He'd never seen the confident, headstrong teenager look so out of options. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. Then he tried, again. "I… I can visit," he repeated, weakly. It was with hesitance, because he knew no matter what he said, Castiel would not accept it.

"You're dad won't let you visit- not that much. He won't let you leave Sam behind, not for me. Especially now that he knows what we have together," Castiel told him. Dean looked even more hopeless. He didn't protest- didn't point out any wrong in Castiel's words. It hurt even more, having a silent confirmation. It hurt more than words ever could. It was incomplete- empty. "So this is it?" Castiel croaked, feeling his heart launch itself into his throat. "You're going to leave me behind? It's all over?"

Dean gave Castiel another pleading look. Castiel shook his head before he continued. He was angry, now. " _This_ ," he exclaimed, gesturing to everything around him, "all this  _shit_ \- you said we'd take it on,  _together!_  You  _promised_ , Dean!"

"I know, trust me- I  _know_ ," Dean tried, again, walking forward and successfully grabbing onto Castiel's elbow, now. "But it doesn't change anything. Being away won't change how I feel about you," Dean spoke, green eyes boring into Castiel's own. "I need you," Dean whispered, eyebrows furrowed with distress as his fingers dug deeper when Castiel tried to pull away, shaking his head at Dean's words once more, a bitter smile stretching his quivering lips. "Stop, please, just  _listen_ ," Dean begged, managing to still Castiel for the moment. The dark-haired teen forced himself to look into Dean's eyes. "I  _need_  you-  _fuck_ , Cas, probably more than you need me. I'm not going to let this go. Not this easy. We  _will_  fix things, alright? I just… we just need more time. And just because I won't be here doesn't mean I won't be with you. It doesn't mean you're alone, okay? Just,  _please_ , don't push me away."

It took Castiel a moment to control his voice before he spoke. "I did fine before you came here, you know," he pointed out, glancing at Dean, and then away, shaking his head once more, bitterness lacing his every move. "I had everything under control- I had a-a system, and I took care of myself. My life was fine before  _you_  walked into it," Castiel ranted, feeling tears burn. "It was-  _Dean_ , look at this!" Castiel exclaimed, gesturing to everything around them. The blond looked scared, eyes scanning Castiel's own. "Look at all the  _shit_  we've caused! We're buried in it- all hell has broken loose. I don't even  _remember_  the last good thing that happened from us being together! I-I used to think that you brought good into my life. I used to think that you saved me and made me happy, but," Castiel broke off, holding back a sob, "you've turned it to shit! Now you're going to leave me behind in it and this isn't just  _my_  mess, it's  _yours, too!_ " Castiel was yelling, now. Dean flinched at his words, grip on Castiel loosening before he tightened it, shaking his head as Castiel had done, but his movements contained fear. His eyes began to look even more frantic than before. Castiel quieted his voice once more, trying to calm himself. He looked into green, glassy eyes. "I was fine, alone. I always was. And now you've fucked everything up," he whispered, feeling his whole being shake.

Dean shook his head, again, eyebrows furrowed and wide eyes heartbroken. "No," he spoke, voice breaking horribly- thick with tears, and Castiel had to shut his eyes at the sound. "No, Cas," he swallowed, trying to steady his quivering voice, "you don't- you don't mean that, I know you don't."

Castiel's eyes were blurring, now, and he ducked his head down once more, fighting off the wave of anguish that he felt tug his heart down into the pit of his belly. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it when he felt a sob work its way up his throat. He shook his head once, a firm action, and pulled his arm away from Dean,  _hard_.

"I need to go, my father is waiting for me," Castiel spoke, voice cold. "Bye, Dean."

It was the last conversation they had before everything went to hell.

* * *

School was over. Castiel didn't see Dean, again. He didn't see anyone. With no phone, no computer, he had no way to contact anybody.

Not that he wanted to.

Friday night was the hardest. Castiel couldn't recall how long he murmured and tried not to yell at voices that screamed and mocked him in his head. They grew more plentiful and more horrible, and Castiel  _couldn't take it_.

He was losing his mind.

He was  _losing his mind._

When he woke up Saturday morning, a razor blade was on his bed, stained brown with dried blood. Twelve deep cuts marked his inner left arm, criss crossing and beginning to scab, now, a few bleeding weakly. His bed was stained with blood.

He didn't remember doing that to himself.

He should have been afraid. Castiel knew that  _this was not a good sign_. But, in all honesty, he couldn't bring himself to care. He ran fingers over the aching scars for a moment before taking a shower, and then covering them up with a long-sleeved shirt.

He paced his room for a good while, begging the voices in his head to quiet themselves for a moment-  _just for a moment_. They did not, of course. They were screaming. The screaming _wouldn't stop_.

Pulling at his hair, Castiel sank to the floor, trying to calm his breathing. Everything would be fine.  _Don't think, don't think don't think_ -

So much screaming.

They were yelling at him- each ordering him to do things he couldn't comprehend. He wanted them to be silent-  _he wanted it to stop_.

Getting up on his wobbly feet, Castiel walked to the door, sweaty hand slipping on the brass knob before he managed to open it and walk into the hallway. Before he went downstairs, he noticed his father's bedroom door was ajar, and heard a noise of activity within it.

Confused, Castiel stumbled to his father's room and held onto the door, peering inside. Mr. Novak was up and about, packing a duffel bag with clothes. When he noticed Castiel, he only gave him an indifferent glance before continuing. "Yes, Castiel?"

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed, and he felt a hitch of fright at the thought of his father going away. "Are you leaving?"

"For tonight, yes. I have a meeting in Wichita," his father murmured, stuffing a few more supplies into the bag. "I will not be back until tomorrow night."

Castiel tightened his grip on the door. He didn't want to be alone. Not when there was so much screaming. "Dad," Castiel whimpered.

His father turned to look at him, Castiel's broken voice catching his attention for a moment. He stood up straighter, now, and Castiel looked up at him from his spot by the door. "What? What is it?"

Castiel composed himself before he responded. "I don't feel well," he spoke, his voice feeling drowned under the yells in his head. "I don't think I'm okay."

A sigh. " _Castiel_ , we have talked about this," his father reprimanded before zipping his bag closed. "You're going through The Lord's test," he reminded his son before turning to face him, looking straight into his eyes. "This is your redemption. You need to pass His test, and all will be forgiven."

But Castiel felt so weak and scared. He felt like his body wasn't his own, anymore- like he was dying. "I don't know if I can," he choked out.

Not on his own.

"You must. And you will. That is the end of this discussion," Mr. Novak ordered harshly as he slung his bag onto his shoulder and brushed past Castiel out the door. "I'll see you tomorrow. Do not leave the house, and do not bring anybody over."

 _I have nobody left to bring_ , Castiel thought to himself. But, instead, he answered his father. "I will not."

The front door shut firmly.

* * *

The more hours that passed, the more Castiel began to lose it. He was so far from reality- he was right on the edge from losing his mind.

And he was so  _scared_.

He didn't want to lose himself. He didn't want this all to happen, again. He just wanted things to be  _okay_.

It was eleven at night when Castiel broke. A voice roused him from his fitful sleep.

" _Wake up._ "

The voice echoed in the darkness. It was an unauthorized intrusion, but it stirred Castiel to wakefulness either way.

" _Wake up_."

Castiel's eyelids fluttered open, and he took note of the figure in his room- a human-like one, perhaps. It was difficult to tell. The image shifted so much.

It was gazing at him.

" _It's time, Castiel_ ," it hissed- voice a shifting echo and practically undecipherable. It was almost like static inside his head, drowning out all other noise. " _Get your shoes on_."

Castiel nodded, flinging his legs off the side of the bed. He was still dressed in his day clothes. He had fallen asleep in them. He ran a hand over his face, sleepily, as he got up and slipped on his shoes.

" _Get a jacket. It's a cold night._ "

Castiel did as he was told.

" _You know what you must do_ ," the voice instructed.

Castiel nodded. Yes. He did.

He knew what he must do.

* * *

Jo was home alone. Ellen was busy doing a late event at the diner, and Jo had taken the night off. It was almost twelve when her doorbell rang. It was pouring outside- another short springtime rainstorm. She knew it would blow over soon, but it added to the eerie feeling she felt in her gut as the doorbell sounded through her empty home. Who could it possibly be?

Feeling a shiver of fright, Jo almost didn't answer. But, her curiosity got the best of her, and she ended up opening the door, cracking it open slightly and looking outside.

Castiel was there, soaking wet and looking all around horrible.

Jo opened the door all the way, now, eyes wide with shock. " _Cas?_ "

Castiel practically looked through her. His eyes met hers, but he didn't show any recognition towards her existence. He didn't respond.

"What are you doing in the rain?" Jo asked, taking his arm and bringing him inside. His clothes were soaked through, and he was freezing cold. "Did you  _walk_  here?" She asked as she closed the door shut behind them, locking it, as well.

"I was looking for mom," Castiel murmured, looking down at the floor and then around him as if he just realized where he was.

Jo thought she misheard him. "What?" she whispered, looking into Castiel's eyes.

Castiel looked at her in a confused manner. "I was looking for mom," he repeated. "Anna, where's mom?" he asked her, now. Jo's eyes widened, and she suddenly felt scared. Was Castiel sleepwalking?

"She's not here, Castiel," Jo replied slowly, trying to keep up his eye contact. Castiel was scary pale, his skin white as a sheet. His wet clothes hung heavy on his bony frame, and his hair was matted against his forehead with rain. The worst part, though, were his eyes. They were sunken in and surrounded in purple, bruise-like shadows. The healing bruise and cuts on his face stuck out, now, when only a few days ago they were starting to fade.

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked worried. He looked around them, again, as if his mother would suddenly appear. "She said she'd get me from church. I called her and asked her to pick me up. I'm scared of storms."

"Cas-"

"She said she was on her way," Castiel continued, almost as an afterthought.

Jo nodded, getting Castiel's attention, now, as she put a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, she is," she played along. "She'll be here, soon. Come on, let's get you a towel and we'll wait for her, together," Jo suggested.

Castiel nodded distantly, eyes glazed over in a worrying manner. Jo just had to go upstairs and call someone. She'd take him to her room, get him dry, and call…

Who would she call?

The group wouldn't know what to do about this. Hell, if Jo couldn't figure it out then there was no way another teenager would solve the problem.

She couldn't call a doctor, and she  _definitely_  couldn't call Castiel's father. She had no clue what to do.

Her mother, Jo decided. Ellen was busy, but Jo needed a familiar adult figure here. Suddenly, being thrown in this situation, Jo felt so small, and so  _useless_. She had no idea what to do. She felt like a child. She was scared, and lost. And she had no inkling of a clue towards what was going on with Castiel.

So Jo lead Castiel up the stairs, a hand grasping gently onto his elbow. He went easy enough, blabbering things about church and how much the storm had scared him. He also continued to look around curiously, as if he'd never seen the place, before.

When they got to her room, Jo cursed when she didn't find her phone there. It must have been in the living room. She would quickly get it. But, first, she needed to get Castiel a towel before he got sick. The laundry room was in the basement… maybe she could try to get them both at the same time.

"Anna, where's mom?" Castiel asked in a frightened manner, looking straight at Jo. Jo repressed the urge to scream with her frustration. She was angry at herself for not knowing what to do, and she just desperately wished she wasn't alone, right now. She wanted to take care of her friend, but she had  _no idea how._

"She's not here," Jo repeated, getting more and more afraid by the minute. "I'll be right back, Cas, okay? Just- just stay right here. Let me get you a towel."

Castiel nodded, standing in the middle of the room. Jo left, quickly, going off into the laundry room in the basement to get a clean towel. When she passed the living room, she grabbed her phone, as well, and then headed for the stairs.

That was until she saw the front door wide open.

Dropping both the towel and her phone, Jo ran to it, looking out into the dark of the night. " _Castiel!_ " She called out, her voice echoing in the neighborhood. She looked around, not seeing him anywhere. She called for him, again, but there was no answer.

Closing the front door, Jo sprinted up the stairs and to her room, screaming out Castiel's name, now, over and over. He wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere. She checked all the rooms thoroughly before running back to where she had dropped her phone, picking it up with shaking fingers.

She dialed Dean's number.

He picked up after the first ring, and his voice was hesitant. "Jo?" he asked.

" _Dean_ , are you still in town? Have you left, yet?" Jo asked, although she knew he'd be leaving tomorrow at seven in the morning. She was going to go visit him- her and the rest of the group were going to see him off.

"No- no, I'm still here," Dean reassured, picking up on the panic in Jo's voice. "What's wrong?" he asked, sounding scared, himself.

"It's Cas," Jo replied, running fingers through her hair and pulling hard at is as she went to the front door again, peering through the window. "H-he came here and he was acting really strange. I-I don't know what's wrong with him, I don't know what to do-"

"Where is he?" Dean asked, seeming to be moving, now. "Jo,  _where did he go?_ " Dean asked when Jo hesitated.

"I don't know!" she exclaimed. "H-he was calling me Anna a lot and asking me where his mom was. A-and I went to go and get him a towel and to call my mom but when I went to go see him the front door was open and  _he was gone_ ," Jo explained.

Dean was silent. "Oh my god," he breathed out, like he didn't believe a word of it. He sounded like he didn't want to.

"Dean-"

"I'm gonna go look for him," Dean interrupted. "I'll call you when-"

" _No_ ," Jo retaliated, cutting him off. They were not doing this, again. "I'm going with you- I  _need_  to go with you, this time."

" _Jo_ -"

"It's  _not_  an option, Dean," she hissed.

She could almost picture Dean drawing his lips into a line- the irritated look on his face as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. " _Fine_. Okay, you're right. I'm gonna come and get you, then we'll check Cas's house. Maybe he went back there."

"Okay," Jo breathed out.

"I'll be there in five."

* * *

When Dean arrived at Jo's house, she was standing in front of her door, under the shelter of her porch. She ran through the rain and to the car, climbing in and shutting the door hard behind her. On any other day, Dean would lecture her for mistreating the car. Now, though, he just stepped on the gas and raced to Castiel's house.

"I just looked around the neighborhood and couldn't find him," Jo reported, seeming terrified. Despite the fact that she didn't know what to do, like Dean, it was comforting having Jo there with him. He could feel his mind start to clear.

"We'll find him," Dean promised, although his heart couldn't stop pounding. "Hell, the bastard's probably already at his house," Dean tried to joke, although his voice shook.

Jo nodded, although Dean could tell she did so more for him. She didn't believe a word he said.

When they arrived at Castiel's home, it was twelve thirty in the morning.

And the lights inside the giant house were flicked on, yellow light illuminating large glass windows, leaking through thick curtains.

The two teens ran out the Impala and to the front door of the brick house, ringing on the doorbell, insistently. When nobody responded, Jo spoke up.

"I don't think anybody's home," she breathed out, seeming panicked.

Dean put a hand on the doorknob, pushing down on the latch and letting out a breath of relief when he found it was unlocked. He let them in, and looked around the house as he and Jo quickly stepped inside. Jo closed the door behind them.

"Cas?" he called out, his voice echoing in the grand, empty house. " _Cas?_ "

"Let's check upstairs," Jo suggested when she saw lights on up there.

After scanning the downstairs quickly, Dean nodded, his knees feeling like jello as he climbed the tall, wooden staircase. He had to hold onto the railing with sweaty hands for balance as his heart pounded in his ears. Everything was spinning and he was  _so afraid_  of what he might find.

All the rooms were empty, though. The lights were off in each except one.

Dean and Jo walked into that room. It was the study.

The desktop was on, humming softly in the quiet of the house. The noise drew both the teens to the machine.

Dean went straight to it, Jo close behind, looking over his shoulder. The screen was at Castiel's email outbox. Dean scanned it before his eyes caught something.

Castiel had sent an e-mail at eleven.

The recipients names stuck out at Dean, burning into his eyes.

Anael and Gabriel.

Fingers shaking, Dean found the mouse and clicked on the email.

_Anael and Gabriel,_

_I realize it has been a while since we have last spoken. And, for that, I am sorry. I know you tried to help me, and I'm sorry for pushing you away for so long. I do not mean to reconnect with you both on these terms. I realize you are very busy. I really, really hate to bother you. Again, I am sorry._

_I am just…_ scared _. And I do not know what to do._

_I am sorry to bring this upon you both, when I have already caused you so much grief. I am just not strong. I cannot do this on my own._

_I think I am losing my mind, again. I tried telling dad, but he would not listen. Nobody is_ listening _to me._

_I need help. I really, really need help. I cannot do this, anymore. I cannot keep going through this._

_Oh my God. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry._

_I need to leave. I need to leave for good, this time. I cannot come back to what I have. I just cannot. I am not strong enough, anymore. I do not think I ever was. I cannot keep living when there are so many voices in my head telling me to end it._

_I'm_ seeing things _. It's not just the voices, this time. It's much worse._

_I am going to visit our mother's grave, today. I have not seen it since the funeral. I need to see her. I need to say goodbye._

_So… I suppose that is what this message is. A goodbye._

_I am sorry for everything I have done to you both. To our family. I have ruined things, and there is just nothing I can do to fix it. I_ tried _, though. I_ swear _, I really tried._

 _I cannot ever apologize enough for everything I have put you all through. I can never redeem myself. I killed our mother. Oh, God, I_ killed _her._

 _I am so so sorry. To both of you. Please,_ please _forgive me. Please do not hate me. You have a right to. Please, just, I do not want any of this._

_By the time you have read this, I hope to not be here, anymore. I am writing to you with the last bit of sanity I have left. I am losing myself. I will lose all the rest of myself, too._

_Goodbye. I am sorry… I am so sorry._

_-Castiel_

Dean almost collapsed, his knees buckling underneath him. The world was spinning and everything around him was blurred, dulled out by his feeling of dread. "Oh,  _god_ ," he weakly moaned out, feeling sick. Jo pulled at his arm. He barely registered it.

" _Dean_ , the graveyard! His church! We need to go,  _now!_  Snap the fuck out of it,  _let's go!_ " she was yelling, now, dragging Dean's crumpling self out of the room. He managed to work his legs enough to get himself out of the house and into the car. The rain had stopped. It was dark and wet outside, and horribly still and quiet.

Dean slammed his foot on the gas, and raced through the streets, following Jo's directions with an intensely horrid veil of panic. He was not a person, right now. He was practically empty- a shell filled with feelings of anxiety and adrenaline and fear, rather than a human soul. It was like he wasn't even the one driving in his car- like he was viewing everything that was happening to him from the outside. It felt like a horrible, horrible nightmare.

He needed to find Castiel.  _Fuck, he needed to find him._

Before it was too late.

* * *

It was still raining when Castiel found his mother's grave, although the droplets had lightened up to a drizzle that tapped lightly at his soaked clothes. He gazed at the marble gravestone, speechless.

"Mom," he croaked, voice sounding like a child's.

The marble glowed at him, catching the light of the moon. His mother's name glistened from its delicate engraving on the stone. The short years of her life scrawled underneath it, taunting him and blaming him.

Castiel couldn't move.

" _Mom?_ " Castiel tried, again, tears streaming down his face, now. He fell to the ground, knees sinking into the wet dirt. " _Oh_ , God," he cried out loud, shaking hands hovering in front of his face. "What have I done?" he cried out, voice a mess of muffled sobs. " _What have I done?_ " he yelled, now.

His cries went unanswered. Just as they always did.

"I'm so sorry," he whimpered, arms curling around himself as he cried. " _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry it's all my fault, all my fault, all my fa-ault,_ " he sobbed. " _Stop screaming-_  please- just  _stop screaming_ ," he begged the voices in his head.

But on they went.

It never stopped. He just wanted it to  _stop_.

" _Castiel._ "

The clear voice rang to him- like a beacon in a storm. It sounded out clean within the mess of screams in his head. Yet, the static in his mind hissed with the voice. The rain had let up, now, and a light shone at Castiel's right.

At the lake behind the church.

Castiel gazed at the light with wide eyes. It called to him, again.

" _Castiel_ ," it spoke.

He put a hand flat on the mud, pushing himself up onto his unstable legs.

" _Castiel_."

Static, yet clear- the voice was a woman's. It was familiar. It was-

"Mom?" Castiel gasped, moving instinctively towards the lake. The light dimmed. The figure gradually became more clear.

" _Yes_ ," it replied.

Castiel let out a wet laugh, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket, even though it was wet and only dampened his face, further. He was at the edge of the lake, now. His mother hovered over the center, and Castiel could see her clearer, now.

Her soft hair fell in bundles down to her waist, soft and tangled like they always were- a light shade of warm brown. Her eyes were soft and inviting, and a smile lifted the corners of her lips as she gazed at Castiel.

"I miss you," Castiel suddenly spoke, eyes overflowing with tears, once more. His emotions were crippling at the sight of his mother. He didn't know what to do.

" _I miss you too, angel_ ," she replied.

Castiel smiled through his tears at the familiar nickname, but his smile quickly fell. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I killed you… it's all my fault."

" _I know,_ " his mother responded, making Castiel choke back a sob. " _But it's alright, angel. You can still make it up to me_ ," she told him. Her skin glowed with death. But, on her, it looked beautiful. It was enchanting. It made Castiel want to reach out to her.

Castiel looked up at his mother, eyes wide. " _How?_ " he asked, fingers of his good hand grasping on tight to the material of his jacket. The zipper bit hard into the soft skin of his palm, matching the nail marked that scabbed there.

His mother smiled, once again. " _Come to me, Castiel. Come here_ ," she spoke, reaching out to him. Castiel reciprocated her, reaching out his own hand in instinct and taking a step forward.

His foot submerged in water, and he pulled back, shocked.

"I-I can't," he told her, hand flying back to his chest as he looked from the water to her.

" _Why not?_ " she asked. She sounded hurt, and Castiel felt his heart ache.

"I can't swim," he told her, looking pleadingly into her eyes. "I don't know how."

" _I will help you_ ," his mother comforted with a smile. She reached out her hands further. She was so far away. He didn't want her to be so far away. He wanted to be near her.

Castiel hesitated.

" _Don't you trust me, angel?_ " she asked.

"Of course," Castiel replied, automatically. The screams in his head were suddenly increasing. They grew to shrieks and his hands flew to his head to cradle it- to stifle the horrible, deathly screeches. "Stop," he whimpered to himself, clenching his teeth as he shook his head.

" _I can help you_ ," his mother spoke, voice cutting through the screams, again. " _Come, Castiel. I will make it all go away. Let me take care of you_ ," she begged, eyes doleful.

Castiel looked up, again. He was still crying. He couldn't stop. He wanted it all to  _stop_.

Nodding, he stepped forward. His feet were under the water, and he sucked back his fear.

" _Keep going,_ " she urged.

The water was black, and it rippled gently around him. He couldn't see anything underneath- not even his sneakers showed through the opaque liquid. It was as if he'd stepped into a massive pool of ink.

" _Walk, Castiel._ "

His hips were submerged, now. She still looked so far away. He hesitated, once more.

" _You're almost there, angel. Keep walking. I'm here._ "

He waded forward. His heart was pounding. The screams were deafening.

He lifted his chin up as the water lapped at it. It was so cold. He was so cold.

" _I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you._ "

Everything around him was empty, cold space. The water provided calm. A deadly, still calm. He was afraid to be completely blanketed by it. He didn't know what would happen.

" _You'll be with me, soon. It will all be over, soon_ ," his mother cooed, her voice echoing in his head.

With a final nod, Castiel looked up into the sky. Millions of stars dotted it, and a full, brilliant moon shone down upon him. He let himself gaze at that- let it bring him peace and calm as he took another step forward-

And, just like that, Castiel was totally submerged in darkness.

He did not come to the surface.

The screams finally ceased.


	41. Chaos

_Rain pounded at the walls, heavy and insistent. It faded the often bright colors of the stained mural glass- turned the intricate geometric shapes of color into a haunting sight when, under other circumstances, they would have brought the young boy peace. Hail soon followed the conundrum, cracking viciously at windows and set headstrong on breaking inside to shower the people sheltered within. Castiel huddled underneath a maple brown pew, hands over his ears and eyes squeezed tight as he tried to block out the noise. A tornado siren went off, breaking through the barrier of his hands. His tiny fingers shook and trembled as they gripped onto locks of his hair. He was seven years old- he knew he needed to be braver than this. But all he could think about was how_ alone  _he felt. All he could think about was that he wanted his mother and father to hold him and tell him he'd be okay._

" _Castiel! We're missing Castiel! Did anybody see where he went? Who saw him last? He's afraid of storms, we need to find him!"_

 _Castiel was crying, now. He wanted to call out to his church group, but he couldn't find his voice. It seemed as if the storm had taken that from him- the ability to be brave and speak up to let everyone know he was fine. So he huddled into a smaller ball- squinting his eyes shut tighter as thunder shook the church and flickered the lights (Castiel could see the change in lighting through his eyelids). Small sobs racked his tiny body, and tears gushed out from closed eyes. He was scared and alone and he_ wanted to go home _._

_Footsteps sounded nearby- a familiar click of heels. They grew closer before they stopped in their tracks, to Castiel's right. A gasping voice sounded out- filled with relief and thick with worry at the same time._

" _There you are!" Mrs. Madison exclaimed. "I found him!" she called out to the others before huddling next to Castiel, putting a hand on his knee. Castiel opened his eyes, now, shaking his head with fear- squeaking when another crack of thunder sounded. He focused on his aunt's hand, on the warmth it brought him, and he tried to will himself to imagine it was his mother's, and that he was safe at home and not alone in a storm. "Sweetie, are you alright? Are you hurt?" she asked, assessing her nephew and putting her hands on the small ones that covered his ears, now. She tried to gently pry them off, but Castiel was resistant. He opened his eyes, though._

_The little boy shook his head hard, crying more, now. "I want my mom and dad," he whimpered, shrinking into himself when thunder shook the church and pierced the air with a gigantic crash. The lights flickered off. Everything was bathed in darkness, and Castiel (along with a few other children) screamed in fear. "I wanna go home!" Castiel cried, now._

_Castiel's aunt gently eased his hands off his ears, holding them softly in her own, now. "Castiel, come out from there. You're safe, I'm here," she coaxed, scooping Castiel out from under the bench and holding him close in a safe embrace. He was sat on her lap, and he buried his face in her shoulder, muffling his cries in her dress shirt. "Come to me. We can call your mother, yes? Would you like that?"_

_Castiel nodded, hands flying back up to his ears when thunder sounded once more. Mrs. Madison hushed him gently, sitting him down on the pew he had been huddled underneath. He clung to her arm, blue eyes wide as they watched his aunt. She fished out her phone from her blue petticoat pocket. The phone was a dull, thick gray bar with some stiff buttons on it, and she held up the old phone as she tried to find service. "I've got it," she assured her nephew, dialling a number, now. She held the phone to her ear, her free arm around Castiel, fingers rubbing his arm soothingly as he buried his face in her jacket sleeve, eyes peeking out at the mass of people not too far ahead of them. They were finalizing their attendance counts._

" _Rachael?" Mrs. Madison spoke, suddenly. "Rachael? Are you- yes, it's me. No, I'm fine, everyone is okay. It's just Castiel- no, Rachael, he's fine. He's with me. Could you talk to him? He's only frightened… yes, okay, one moment."_

_Castiel loosened his grip on his aunt's arm, looking up now as she offered him the phone. He took it from her, and held the small device to his ear._

" _Mom?"_

* * *

The mud sunk underneath Dean's feet as he ran, almost slipping and falling down in his haste. Jo was right behind him, her closeness evident by the splashing her sneakers made as they met wet earth.

 _Castiel_.

That was the only word that shouted in Dean's mind, over and over. He was utterly frantic- the only thing he could think about was whether or not Castiel was  _alive_.

No. No, he needed to stop thinking about that. He just  _needed_ to find Cas.

The cemetery was fairly large, and Dean did not see anybody walking among any of the headstones. His heart sunk with fear, though, as he saw the wrought iron gate open, creaking underneath the weight of the wind as it pushed it back and forth.

Jo and Dean entered the cemetery, looking back and forth for Castiel. He was nowhere to be found, and now Dean was starting to lose all hope.

"Where could he  _be_?" Jo asked, her panic evident as it shook her voice. Dean didn't answer her, he only chewed on his now bloodied lower lip, scanning the area.

There was a lake off to the right of the cemetery, just behind the church. For some reason, Dean was drawn to it- a tingling in his legs making him want to run over there  _now_.

"The lake," Dean uttered out before he could stop himself. "Let's go to the lake."

And he set off before Jo could voice her opinion. She followed him, nonetheless, her footfall rhythmic behind him, squishing in the mud.

When they reached the lake, Dean scanned it, willing his eyes to adjust to the night, for there were no streetlamps nearby to provide any illumination. The moon provided a dull light source, and Dean used it as he searched, his body tingling uncontrollably- his heartbeat deafening in his ears.

Cas was here. Dean could  _feel it._

And, just as Jo was saying she didn't see anything, Dean caught sight of a tiny dark mass floating atop the center of the lake. His heart seized, and Dean squinted, willing his eyes to make sense of it.

It was Castiel's head, tilting up and gazing at the sky.

" _CAS!_ " Dean called out, voice echoing through the graveyard.

But just as soon as he had yelled, Castiel had submerged himself underwater.

* * *

" _Castiel, sweetheart, are you alright?" his mother's voice spoke to him. Castiel wanted nothing more at that moment than for his mother to be right there with him._

" _I want to go home," Castiel whimpered. He could hear thunder crash on the other line. "I'm_ scared _."_

" _I know, sweetie, I know," his mother comforted. She sounded as though she were being torn apart at hearing her son so frightened. He could imagine his mother pacing as they talked- his father stilling her as he gripped her elbow gently, just like he always did when she worried. "It's only a storm, Castiel. Remember what I told you about storms? How God gives the earth storms to make the trees and plants happy?"_

_Castiel shook his head, crying harder, now. "It's scary, I don't like it!"_

" _Castiel," his mother spoke softly, her voice sad. "I promise you you're safe. When the storm lets up I'll come and get you, alright?"_

" _Is it a tornado?" Castiel asked, feeling his heart race in his chest. "There was a siren- Gabriel told me once, he said- he said that tornadoes can blow away houses and-and even big buildings like the church," Castiel rambled, feeling his eyes water as the howling of wind picked up outside._

" _No, angel, no- it's not a tornado. The siren was just for a warning, to make sure everyone stays safe. It's just a storm- it'll go away, soon. And when it does you'll be safe at home with all of us, okay? But right now you're with Aunt Madison, and she told me she'd take very good care of you."_

"No _," Castiel whimpered, unable to help himself. He didn't_ feel  _safe. The thunder wouldn't stop shaking things, the wind wouldn't stop howling, and the hail was crashing against the windows and Castiel just wanted to be with his family. "I wanna be with you guys. Anna and Gabe are home, I wanna go home, too," Castiel cried, rubbing at his watery eyes with his sleeve. "Come take me home, mom, please-"_

" _Castiel-" Mrs. Madison warned._

" _Alright," his mother replied, sounding resolved. "I'm going to drive over, okay? Stay where you are, and have Aunt Madison help you get ready."_

_Castiel nodded, although his mother couldn't see him. "Okay," he replied, sniffling as he rubbed at his eyes, again._

" _I love you very, very, very much, angel," his mother told him. "Can you give the phone to Auntie? I will see you in a bit."_

" _Okay. I love you, too," Castiel replied before giving his aunt the phone, clinging onto her sleeve when thunder shook the building._

" _What?" his aunt spoke, plugging her free ear with a finger in order to block out the noise of the storm. "You're breaking up- can you say that- Rachael! No, you can't, don't," Mrs. Madison protested before she drew her lips into a line, listening. "My God, at least wait until the rain lets up, alright? Okay… be safe."_

_Castiel averted his eyes to the windows- gazing out at the lightning and rain that frightened him so much. His aunt wound an arm around him, pulling him near._

" _Your mother will be here soon, sweetheart."_

_Castiel only nodded._

* * *

It was like pure instinct. The moment Castiel went under, Dean threw off his jacket and ran into the water, diving into the cold, deep lake and ignoring Jo's frantic calls behind him. Everything was pitch black around him- Dean couldn't see a thing. His senses were absolutely muted. So Dean swam to the center of the lake, going with the only lead he had.

When his lungs felt as though they might burst, Dean swam to the surface, gulping in air before diving back in. He thought he heard Jo scream to him, but he heard so much frantic yelling in his head, he wasn't quite sure if it was real or not.

Dean dove down far, this time. His fingers brushed slimy mud as he waved his hands around, searching for Castiel. He was in the exact spot where Castiel had gone under- he  _had_ to be here! _He had to!_

Dean resurfaced for air, once more. He looked around him, adjusting his position until he was as close as he could guess to where Castiel had gone under.

He took a deep breath.

Water sloshed at his ears as he dove, again, swimming to the bottom of the lake, hands spread out and searching as he did so. The lake was surprisingly deep, and Dean could feel his ears ache with the water pressure around his head the deeper he went.

His lungs burned with protest. Dean wasn't sure how long he had been under, but he wouldn't go up for air until he found Castiel. He  _knew_ he was here. He could sense him.

Suddenly, his fingers bumped into something solid. Solid and  _cold_. A body. Dean's heart seized, and he almost drew his hand back before he told himself  _it's Cas, it's just Cas, it's_ still  _Cas-_

He took purchase of what felt like Castiel's arm, pulling him close and hauling him up- desperately trying to get them both to the surface. Castiel felt like tons of dead weight in Dean's arms, and everything was growing fuzzy as his lungs screamed for air and his muscles grew weak. He kicked frantically at the ice cold water, urging it to lift them both- holding Castiel close to his chest, now, and trying not to panic at how dead and cold he already felt-

_It's just Cas, it's just Cas, it's just Cas-_

Somehow, Dean broke the surface. He gasped in a long, raw breath, his lungs screaming and throat tight. He hauled Castiel up as much as he could, and managed to get his head above water.

Castiel looked like a corpse. That was the only way Dean could describe him. In the moonlight, the hollows of his cheeks were prominent- the blues and purples under his eyes and coloring his bruise and tinting his skin, most evident on his lips. Water filled his mouth, and Dean tilted Castiel to the side the best he could as he swam, so as to drain out as much of the fluid as he could from Castiel's body. Dean proceeded to kick his legs hard through the water, trying to get them to shore.

Cas wasn't dead. He wasn't- he  _couldn't be_.

Jo was screaming things that Dean didn't understand. She was thigh deep in the water, and she reached out to them both. Once Dean's feet touched ground, he ran as fast as he could through the water and to Jo. His wet clothes weighed him down- his meager t-shirt felt like ten sweaters, and his jeans were like bricks strapped to his legs. Jo helped Dean ease Castiel out of the water and lie him flat on the muddy shore.

"Get his jacket and shirt off- put your jacket on him, we need to warm him," Jo instructed Dean. It was only then that he realized she had a phone to her ear. She was on the emergency line. "An-and do chest compressions- no, breaths first, we need to get him breathing," Jo spoke, repeating what she heard. She was crying. Dean could see the tears staining her face, shimmering in moonlight. Her eyes were filled with tears, mouth screwed in an awful way, but forcing itself to form the words it needed to speak.

Dean didn't know when he did it, but suddenly he was putting Castiel's shirt and jacket aside. The unresponsive teen's torso was completely bare- white as a sheet and bruised with awful dark shades that lined his left side. Castiel's brace on his injured hand was filthy- filled with mud and weighed down with lake water. Dean fumbled around the dirt for his jacket before finding the leather material and wrapping Castiel in it.

Breaths. Jo was yelling at him to do breaths.

Dean did as he was told, feeling like a robot- like this whole experience wasn't happening. It was an awful dream- it was just a horrid, disgusting dream.

A hand slid to Castiel's neck to check for a pulse. When he didn't find one, he tilted Castiel's head in the way he had been taught, pinching his nose and giving four deep breaths- the deepest he could possibly breathe. Castiel's lips were cold. They felt like ice against Dean's own.

Castiel's chest was even colder underneath Dean's palms. He curled one hand on top of his other, and pressed down-

"You need to make sure you press hard- Dean, the ambulance is on its way. Just-  _oh my god,_ please-"

Everything was blurry. Dean couldn't see. He couldn't feel. He  _couldn't breathe._

Castiel couldn't breathe. Castiel was dying.

Oh, god, he was  _dying_. Dying in Dean's arms. There was nothing he could do-

"Cas," Dean mumbled out, voice breaking and practically a sob. There were tears in his eyes. He was crying, now. The blur cleared. " _Cas_ , baby, please," Dean bit out, pressing hard into Castiel's chest, beat after beat, after beat, after beat. Something snapped underneath Dean's hands, but he kept going, unable to stop.

"Give him breaths, Dean," Jo instructed, voice the pure entity of panic. Dean just now realized she was next to him, a hand clenching onto the wet shirt on his back for a sense of comfort. Whether it was for his own or hers, he didn't know. "He needs to breathe- there's water in his lungs-"

Dean was already moving, hand going underneath Castiel's chin- tilting his head back as his other hand went to his nose, pinching it and then he was giving Castiel four more deep breaths, Jo confirming if Castiel's chest would rise with the action or not.

Dean always wondered if he would remember what to do in a scenario like this. He never thought he'd actually have to apply his CPR training to his actual life. At least, not with anybody outside of his family. His father constantly reminded him how important knowing these things were- how it was important to know how to take care of his brother in a situation like this. And Dean was always terrified of the thought of something this terrible happening to Sammy- of Sammy not breathing… being unresponsive in his hands.

Dean almost threw up as he pulled back from Castiel and saw his unmoving, pale face in return. He couldn't do this- couldn't  _take it_.

" _Cas, come on!_ " Dean yelled, now, going back to compressions, tears gushing out of his eyes nonstop. "Come back to me,  _please,_ come back, wake up-  _please please, please!_ " Dean cried. His arms were sore and screaming, his lungs still ached, and everything felt  _out of control._

After countless chest presses, Dean resumed giving breaths. Although his lips quivered with sobs and his lungs burned with exhaustion, Dean pumped in hot breath after breath into a cold, dead mouth. After the fourth breath Dean yelled in frustration against Castiel's mouth, hands falling to grip onto his lifeless, frigid body. " _Cas, baby, please come back to me_ ," Dean sobbed, hand reaching up and raking back Castiel's sopping wet hair, and then falling down to cradle his bony face. "Open your eyes,  _breathe_ , talk to me-  _please!_ "

Not receiving a response, Dean let go with a choked sob, quickly returning to chest compressions in a rhythmic manner, delivering the presses as if it were the only thing he knew how to do.  _Where was the ambulance?!_

Jo tried to pry Dean away, she was telling him to let her do it. She told him he would wear himself out. It was true- Dean's arms were wobbling, elbows giving in and collapsing every few presses. But he couldn't stop- he didn't know  _how_  to stop.

Soon the wail of a siren pierced the night. He could hear tires screech on wet gravel. He heard footsteps approaching them. He could hear voices yelling at him, telling him he needed to let go of "the boy". It was Jo that eventually pried Dean off, wrapping her arms around his resisting body, pressing his weakened arms to his side. He could feel her bury her face in his neck, crying as she pulled at him, tried to tell him to  _get up, we need to go to the ambulance._

Castiel was on a stretcher, now. Two EMT's carefully and quickly carried him to the ambulance, a third EMT on the side, doing as much as she could for Castiel as they ran him out of the cemetery. Another EMT guided Dean and Jo to the awaiting vehicle, asking question upon question that Dean didn't register. Jo talked for him. She was squeezing his hand  _so hard_ , pulling him forward, fast, yanking him up when his legs gave out.

They climbed into the ambulance. Dean could only catch glimpses of Castiel among the EMTs that surrounded him, attaching an oxygen mask to him, performing all sorts of tasks to try and bring him to consciousness. Everything in Dean pushed him to Castiel, but Jo held him back, fingers digging into his arm as she held him tight and spoke broken warnings to him.

Dean was still crying. He didn't even realize it, but he couldn't stop. He felt dizzy and sick and he felt like he was leaving his own body, like he couldn't take the reality of what was happening. One EMT spoke to Dean, asked him questions he didn't hear. Jo tried to get him to respond, but Dean  _couldn't stop looking at Cas._

A blanket was wrapped around Dean's shoulders, and he suddenly snapped back into reality to see the EMT who had tried to talk to him turn away and divert his attention to Castiel. Jo was rubbing warmth into Dean, holding him close, her forehead pressed into his shoulder as she let out a few broken sobs. Dean didn't even realize he was cold until he started shivering nonstop, his body spasming through adrenaline and what could have been the start of hypothermia. His hands were numb and turning blue, and he balled them up into the orange blanket, raising it up to dry his wet face.

The ambulance stopped, and in a flash the EMTs were taking Castiel out, rushing him into the hospital. Dean and Jo followed, running along with them. Castiel was breathing- Dean could see it, now. It was shallow and irregular, but Dean caught the movement of his chest. He almost collapsed with relief, saying something he couldn't remember, but he saw Jo's eyes brighten- felt her hands tighten on his arm.

Castiel was rushed into the emergency room, and nurses held Dean and Jo back, closing the doors and telling them they couldn't go any further. Dean was yelling at her- he didn't know what he was saying, but he  _needed to be with Cas!_ He needed to be sure he was okay-  _he had to stay with him!_

Jo was pulling him away, and Dean gave in, his body too weak to argue, in the end.

" _Please!_ " he called out to the closest nurse, begging. "Please, just let us go through, we  _need_  to-"

"He'll be okay, Dean," Jo told him. Her nose was red, face flushed from tears and stress. Her eyes were puffy and pink. "We need to wait for him out here, but he'll be okay, they're going to bring him back."

Dean shook his head, his heart seizing with panic. How could he trust Castiel with strangers? How could he tell himself that Castiel would be okay, if he wasn't there to make sure of it, himself? Dean suddenly sat down, collapsing with a sudden wave of exhaustion, the last of his adrenaline drained out of his body. The teen curled into himself, and placed his hands on his face, trying to calm his breathing as he put his head between his knees. He was crying into his hands, breathing in hot, wet air as he finally took in all that had happened. His blanket had fallen off somewhere, and he was shivering as he tried to come down from the adrenaline and fear and  _anxiety_ that coursed through his being.

Jo sat next to him, wrapping her arms around him and murmuring words of comfort, although she was crying, as well. "You did everything you could," she reassured, repeating this fact over and over- as if it were important. "You did everything you could, and he'll be okay. He'll be okay, I swear he'll be okay. And we'll see him, again. He'll breathe and move and talk. He'll come back, I  _swear_."

Dean nodded, calming his rapid breathing as he gave into Jo's comfort, hanging onto her embrace and words like an anchor grounding him to reality. They sat there until a nurse came to them, gently guiding them to a nearby waiting room. She had a big, thick towel for Dean, and worriedly insisted he be checked for hypothermia, himself. He refused, though, wanting to be as close as Castiel as he could. He wouldn't even let the nurse check him, as she had continued insisting. After consistently rejecting being checked up, the nurse finally let them be.

Almost immediately after she left, Dean was up and pacing, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm himself. Jo gazed at him from her chair, her eyes filled with tears and following his movements.

"We need to call someone," she croaked, her voice so small. "Oh my  _god_ ," she murmured, hand flying to her mouth. "Who do we  _call?_ "

Dean shook his head, balling fists into his eyes to stop more tears from coming. "I don't know," he murmured. "I  _don't fucking know."_

Jo was silent for a moment. She gazed wide-eyed at the floor. "I need to call my mom. And Adam.  _Oh my god_ , we need to call everyone and tell them what happened-"

"No," Dean replied, voice shaky. "I can't. Not yet, I can't."

Jo started crying, again, burying her face in her hands. "I can't believe this is happening. It's  _not happening_."

Sam. Dean needed to talk to him. They were supposed to move in a few hours. He had left the house without telling anyone. Oh  _god_ , what was he going to do? What was he going to  _say?_  What would he tell his dad?

Dean reached to his pocket for his phone, pulling it out. It had been soaked, and when Dean flipped it open, it didn't light up. Water leaked steadily from the keyboard as Dean pressed at stiff buttons.

" _Fuck_ ," he hissed, throwing the phone at one of the waiting chairs before collapsing in a seat next to Jo, resting his head in his hands. He hadn't even thought about his phone before he had dove into the lake.

"Use mine," Jo offered, handing him her iPhone. Dean removed his head from his hands, wiping one arm across his eyes before accepting the cell phone. He typed in Sam's number, and stared at the screen for a moment. When the light started to dull, Dean quickly pressed the call button.

He sniffed back his runny nose as he held the phone against his ear, standing up. His free hand was bunching his hair, pulling at it as he waited for his brother to answer. He paced. The younger Winchester didn't pick up the first time, and Dean tried again, murmuring, "Come  _on_ , Sammy."

Finally, Sam picked up. His voice was slurred with sleep. "Hello? Who's-"

" _Sam_ ," Dean spoke, his voice thick with tears. He internally cursed at himself- at his sudden fragility. He felt nothing like himself, and he couldn't help but let it out to his brother. Sammy knew every part of him. It was okay for Sam to hear him like this.

He could hear Sam sit up. His voice sounded more alert, now. "Dean- what's wrong? Are you in the house? What happened?"

The word "nothing" formed on Dean's lips, but he couldn't get it out. Cas was Sam's friend, too. He deserved to know.

"Dean?" the boy's voice persisted. "Are you there? Are you okay?"

"Yeah- yeah, I'm fine. It's… it's Cas," Dean spoke, trying not to let his voice shake. "He's in the hospital. He's…" Dean choked on his words, his eyes burning with tears. Sam was dead silent on the other end of the phone. Dean ran his tongue over his raw lips before speaking. "He's really bad, Sammy. I don't know if-" Dean broke off, again, letting out a sob that he couldn't keep back. It tore through his throat, forcing itself out.

" _What happened?_ " Sam suddenly spoke. He sounded as if he realized he wasn't dreaming, as if he were snapped into reality.

"He drowned- I got him out but he wasn't breathing when I got him and-  _Sam_ , I can't-"

"I'm coming," Sam spoke, the sound of his springs squeaking signalling he was up, now. "Dad and I will-"

" _No!_ " Dean suddenly spoke out, frantic. "Don't tell Dad, Sammy,  _please_ , don't bring him here-"

"I have to, Dean!" Sam retaliated. "What else am I supposed to do? Dad  _needs_ to know!"

Dean was crying, again. "Sammy,  _please_ ," he begged, again. His fist was pressed against his forehead, his eyes squeezed tight as tears trickled out of them, not barred by his eyelids.

"Just hang in there, Dean. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Dean's breath was shaky. He couldn't  _breathe._

" _Dean_ -" Sam persisted.

"Okay," Dean bit out, nodding, now. "Okay. Call Bobby, please. I- I want him… to be-"

"I got it," Sam replied, understanding. "Dad's up. We're coming," Sam reassured.

Dean was nodding fast, trying to calm his heart. "Okay," he repeated.

"Everything will be fine," Sam told him. "Don't worry, okay? Everything will be fine."

* * *

" _Everything will be fine."_

_The words were pointless as they were uttered to Castiel by a nearby nurse. Her hand was nowhere near comforting as it squeezed his shoulder and then removed itself. She walked away, leaving the little boy in a grand, terrifying hospital._

_His mother was in the emergency room. Castiel stood alone in the waiting room, watching with panic as his family went about everywhere- talking,_ screaming  _at one another in frantic voices. Even Anael and Gabriel were in hysterics. They were clinging to their father, their voices lost among his own, and that of Mrs. Madison's._

 _His mother was dying. She was dying. She was_ dying.

_Castiel and his aunt had gone straight to the hospital as soon as they'd heard the news. Mrs. Madison drove them, racing through the remnants of the storm- a light drizzle, completely contrasting the madness they were enduring. It was almost ironic, how once the storm ended, the chaos pursued._

_Castiel was tugging down at his shirt- a nervous habit he got from his mother- as he stood in the waiting room, watching his family argue. His father looked like he had been crying. His eyes were red rimmed and his body was trembling. Castiel had_ never  _seen his father cry._

_Anael was fuming with anger, saying something about a drunk driver. Her eyes were glassy, and, for once, she looked like the thirteen year old she was supposed to be, instead of the adult she tried to act like._

_Gabriel was watching the feud, looking on the brink of a breakdown. Every now and then, he'd yell at people to calm down._

_Castiel was alone. He wasn't looked at. He wasn't acknowledged. And he had no idea what was going on- he didn't understand just how much his life was about to change. All he knew was that his mother had been in a car accident, and that the doctors were making sure she was okay. That's all Mrs. Madison had told him._

_He wanted to scream out. He wanted to tell his family to_ shut up- _to stop arguing with each other and fighting! His mother was in danger, and they were arguing! They all needed to help the doctors save her! But he didn't say any of that. He just stood there, watching chaos unfold. He watched and stayed to the side as his family tore apart._

_Then the doctor walked out of the ER. And, just like that, the yelling had stopped. Everything was disturbingly silent. Everyone had looked at the doctor, expectantly._

_The doctor was an older man. He looked like he could be a father- he had laughter lines and calm brown eyes that met Mr. Novak's dark ones, staring at them with a look Castiel would always be embedded into Castiel's memory. He proceeded with words that would change Castiel's world forever._

" _I'm very sorry," he began, really sounding so. "We did everything we could."_

_Everything shattered to pieces._


	42. Recover

Jo gazed warily at Dean as he paced back and forth, his wet shoes making squishing noises with every step. He had gotten off the phone with his brother nearly a half hour ago, and now he was waiting for his family to arrive. Jo thumbed at the side of her phone, pressing buttons she didn't care to pay attention to. She felt dazed- as if she hadn't slept in years and was floating out of her body. Jo didn't remember the last time she cried so hard- it must have been when her father died. When she used to hurt herself.

Jo's thumb moved down to her left wrist, now, skimming along the faded scars that lay there. She wondered about Castiel's- when the last time he cut was… knowing his current condition, it couldn't have been long ago.

The thought made Jo nearly throw up, and her fingers grasped onto her wrist- vein pulsing in protest underneath her thumb. She gripped her wrist like that until her hand grew numb, blood cut off from flowing to her fingers. She let go, her fingers tingled, and she gazed back at her phone.

She wanted her mother here. Or Adam. She wanted someone who could take care of her and Dean- tell them that everything would be okay. Neither of them were capable of providing each other comfort, at the moment. They were both too struck with the reality of what happened- with the weight of the events…. She still wanted to be told that everything would be fine- that they'd get through it and be okay. Even though she knew that nothing would ever be okay ever again. Not if Castiel didn't get better.

Her phone grew blurry as tears gathered, and Jo rubbed a stubborn hand over her eyes. The skin around her eyes were puffy and irritated, scrubbed raw by the countless times she had wiped her tears, and she held back a hiss at the burn that touching them brought forth.

She wanted to see Castiel. She wanted to see him with color in his face- his eyes no longer glazed as they had been when he visited her house.

What had  _happened_  to him?

Jo had never seen anything like it. Castiel was in some sort of a dreamlike trance, and she had almost been sure he was sleepwalking. But it couldn't be possible. He couldn't have walked through the rain all the way to her house while asleep.

What had it been?

Jo shivered as she recalled the event. Anna… she was Castiel's sister. She saw her name in that email, along with his brother's name. Castiel had thought Jo was his sister. He asked where his mother was….

Jo knew Castiel's mother was dead. Almost the entire school knew, to some extent- it was part of the long story that summoned Alastair's cruelty towards Castiel, and even his cruelty towards others he harassed. There were always rumors going around saying that Castiel's mother had been drunk and killed Alastair's brother in a car accident. For her first year of high school, Jo believed that. It had just been what everyone thought, and she didn't really think too hard over it, since it really wasn't her business or problem. But then she looked at Castiel one day- at the way he shrunk away from people in the halls, the way he took all the harassment. She knew, somehow, that it couldn't be the whole story. Yet she still didn't reach out.

Now he was in the hospital. All those years of torture, and now he was  _dying._

Jo could have prevented this, she realized now with a strangled sob that she cut off, biting down on her tongue. She could have befriended him, sooner. She could have watched Castiel more carefully, last night, not let him manage to slip out by himself. She could have brought him with her to get a towel. She  _knew_ he wasn't in the right state of mind! What on earth possessed her to just leave him in her room like that!?

Somewhere, a voice opposed her self-blame. It told her it wasn't her fault- that she was only trying to do her best to take care of him, and that she just didn't know what to do in the situation. It couldn't have been helped. She had  _tried_.

But the fact that she tried didn't erase her visions of Castiel's body being dragged,  _limp and lifeless_ out of a murky lake. It didn't erase the sound of Dean's voice- the utter  _pain_ that laced every word of her strongest friend. It didn't erase the way her fingers shook- and were  _still shaking_ every second.

Castiel might be dead. Either that, or he's dying right now. He's fighting for his life, and all she could do was  _sit here and wait._

Jo buried her head in her hands, taking a deep breath. Her toes sunk into the lake mud that caked the inside and outside of her sneakers. Her socks were damp inside her soaked shoes, and the muddy water wet her up to the hem of her shirt. She could feel the mud start to dry on her legs- her jeans sticking to her skin uncomfortably.

Jo wound her arms around herself, looking up at Dean, now. He had it worse. Bits of mud had covered his face and hair before he wiped it off with the towel that was now abandoned on the chair next to her. She remembered his fingers and lips- how completely  _blue_ they were- how his skin was white as a sheet. She remembered the way he shivered uncontrollably, his body spasming as he tried to bring Castiel back to life- bring him back to them.

He was still in bad shape. She could see a tremor go through his body every now and then- shaking him in his wet state. She wished she had something warm to put him in- seeing him in those damp and muddied clothes made her stomach twist with the flow of horrid memories. He looked more tired than Jo had ever seen him. He almost looked like he had died, himself.

Jo was going to call out to her friend and tell him to sit down when suddenly she caught sight of his knees buckling, and then Jo was out of her seat in a flash, just barely managing to gather a crumbling Dean in her arms.

"Dean!" she exclaimed, arms lifting up her friend. Dean's hand shot up, grabbing onto Jo for support.

"I'm fine," he gasped out, much to Jo's relief. "Jus' dizzy."

Tears gathered to Jo's eyes, but she stubbornly pushed them back. "Dean, you need to sit down," she instructed him, observing her friend's worn features.

"I can't," he spoke, lifting himself onto his shaky legs. "'Need to see Cas."

"Getting yourself sick and admitted into a fucking hospital room won't help you see him any sooner," Jo chastised, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she hauled him to the chairs. "Just,  _please_ , rest for now. Sam will be here, soon," she comforted him.

And then Dean did something that Jo least expected.

He  _listened_ to her.

With a shaky sigh, Dean laid his head into the crook of Jo's neck. His forehead was feverish against her skin, beaded with hot sweat, and Jo put an arm around her friend, drawing him close. While his head was hot, his body still felt ice cold, and she tried once more to rub some warmth into him. Something that felt almost like tears trickled onto her shoulder.

"He needs to live," Dean gasped out. Jo tightened her quivering lips in a line to stop herself from crying.

"He will. We both know he will," she reassured. "We got him here on time, he's going… he's going to be fine," Jo spoke, voice faltering and thick with tears.

"Dean!"

Dean's head shot up, and Jo saw his little brother run to him through the waiting room, his father and uncle not too far behind him. Dean made to get up, but slumped back in his seat with fatigue. At his second attempt, Jo assisted him, squeezing his hand as she helped him get up. John was instantly at Dean's side when he saw Dean's state, Sammy there as well and grabbing Dean's bare arm.

" _Dean_ , you're freezing!" Sam exclaimed. "And wet- why didn't you tell us you needed clothes?"

Despite the situation, Dean had a little room for some snark. "Well I guess it didn't exactly cross my mind," he snapped, earning a hurt look from his brother. As soon as the words were out, Dean immediately looked sorry. He sighed. "I'm sorry- I, it's been a shitty night."

"Any word on Cas?" Bobby asked, blue eyes worried. Jo saw Dean swallow hard before he shook his head.

"We're still waiting," Jo answered for him. "We… we haven't heard anything yet."

John stripped off his jacket and button up. He had a t-shirt on underneath, and he handed his clothes to his son. "Change into these, Dean," he advised.

Dean accepted the articles of clothing, his hands shaking around their purchase. Instead of going somewhere to change, though, he stripped off his sopping t-shirt in the waiting room, and slipped on his father's button up. Jo noticed how pale Dean's skin looked, still containing a worrying blue tint. She almost looked away as Dean's stiff and shaking fingers tried buttoning the shirt, slipping at their attempts. Instead, though, she helped her friend, buttoning up his shirt for him and only barely hearing his whispered thanks as his useless hands dropped at his sides. He then pulled on his father's jacket, the material comically big on him. Almost instantly, John was asking questions.

"What happened?" he asked first.

Dean looked so tired- so completely sucked out of life. Jo wanted to yell at his father, to tell him to leave his son alone, and  _couldn't he see how broken he was?_  But she didn't say any of that. She did not know John well enough to do so. So, instead, she coiled her hands into fists and bit her lip to stifle her words.

"I… I don't even know how to tell you," Dean murmured, eyes on the floor. Sam, to Jo's relief, spoke up.

"Dad, let him rest, okay?" Sam spoke up, taking Dean's arm and leading him to a chair, whispering something that Jo couldn't hear. John looked like he wanted to argue, but he stifled his words, turning to Bobby. Jo sat with the siblings, on Dean's left, and gazed down at her hands, realizing that they were suddenly shaking violently. All of the events of tonight were suddenly coming back to her in full force, drowning her senses.

She fished her phone from her jacket pocket, and dialled the number in her head with quivering fingers.

Ellen's voice sounded on the other line.

"Jo? Sweetie, I just got home, I was about to call- where are you?"

Jo struggled to find her breath, wiping a hand across her bleary eyes.

"Mom," she finally spoke, trying to hold back her tears. "Something's happened."

* * *

When Ellen arrived things somehow started to feel better. She was an incredibly balanced woman, and with her presence an air of order followed. Even now, with the horrible circumstances, she seemed to clear everyone's minds.

After Dean and Jo had explained everything to the adults, there was an incredible silence. Ellen was the first to break it.

"We need to call a relative of Castiel's," she pointed out, brown eyes worried yet strong. "You said his father wasn't home?"

Dean nodded. "His house was empty," he spoke, his voice hoarse and throat raw. Either way, there was no way in hell Dean would let Castiel's father be the one to care for him.

Ellen nodded, then, seeming to sense Dean's thoughts. "Is there anybody else- anybody close to Castiel that's in the area?" she asked.

Dean suddenly straightened up with realization. "His aunt- she teaches at our school. Mrs. Madison," he told her. "But- but we don't have her number."

"I'll look it up," Ellen spoke, whipping out her phone. Dean grew worried.

"What are you going to tell her?" he asked weakly.

Ellen looked at Dean hard. "Everything," she replied. "She's his family, she needs to know the entire truth."

Dean nodded heavily, leaning over suddenly to rest his head on Sam's shoulder. His brother held Dean's wrist, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Get some rest, okay?" Sam advised. "We'll wake you up the moment we hear something.

Giving out a consenting hum, Dean buried his forehead in the hoodie of Sam's jacket, and his heavy eyelids fell closed.

* * *

When Dean woke it was to a heavy, sweltering haze. A hand was on his forehead, and Sam's worried voice came to him.

"He's burning up," he spoke. Dean opened his eyes, trying to focus them on the people around him. He caught the sight of Mrs. Madison- her worried blue eyes and wavy, raven hair. She painfully reminded him of Castiel, and suddenly Dean remembered where he was.

He sat up and swayed in his seat. Hands steadied him, and suddenly a cool and flat device was moving about his forehead- taking his temperature, he realized as he slowly came back to Earth.

"I'm fine," he managed to speak, attempting to swat away the device.

"His temperature is returning back to normal," a nurse spoke. "He might feel feverish for a while, it's only his body's response to the change in temperature. Make sure he keeps hydrated, and keep him warm."

John's voice replied, and Dean's mind suddenly cleared.

"Where's Cas- is he okay?" he asked, searching for the nurse. But she was already gone. "Where's Cas?" he asked, again.

Mrs. Madison's hand reached out to Dean, and she grabbed his shoulder gently. She was smiling sadly- her eyes looked watery. "We haven't heard anything, yet. He's still in treatment," she informed him.

Dean slumped in his seat, resisting the urge to cry. "How long- what time is it?" he asked, looking around, now. Jo was asleep, her head resting against a snoozing Ellen's shoulder. Bobby and John were standing a distance away, talking to one another in hushed voices. Sam was still awake, and he gazed at Dean in a worried manner.

"It's four in the morning," she replied. "I got here a half hour ago."

Dean ran his hands down his face, trying to push back the tears that burned at his eyes. They'd been here for hours, and there was still no news on Castiel.

"Dean, can I talk to you?" Mrs. Madison asked, gazing into his eyes. "There's something I need to let you know."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed, and he glanced at Sam for reassurance. When his little brother nodded, Dean looked back at his teacher. "Yeah, okay," he answered.

She helped him up, and they walked off to the other side of the waiting room, away from the others' ears.

"Let's sit," she advised, gesturing to a couple chairs. Dean sat down warily, keeping his gaze on Castiel's aunt.

Mrs. Madison sat next to Dean, and she avoided his eyes, twining her fingers together. Dean watched her nervous flutters of movement, feeling a sense of worry in his own gut. "What did you want to tell me?" he asked, breathless.

Mrs. Madison bit her lip, another habit Dean recognized from Castiel. It seemed as if the teacher and her nephew had more in common than his own father had with his son. "There's… something about Castiel you need to know. Something I'm sure he hasn't told you."

Dean's heart nearly stopped, and his throat went incredibly dry. He was surprised he could even manage to speak. "What is it?" he asked.

Mrs. Madison took a deep breath. She still avoided Dean's eyes. "From… from what Jo informed me of when I got here… it seemed like Castiel was having a," she cut herself off, biting on her lip hard. Dean realized that tears were filling her eyes, and he had strange urge to comfort the woman, although he hardly knew her. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry- this, it isn't easy," she spoke. Dean didn't reply, just gazed. "I- I want Castiel to tell you, himself, but I'm not sure if-" she bit her lip, again.

Dean gazed intensely at her. "Tell me," he urged. "Please."

Mrs. Madison nodded, swallowing hard. "Castiel- he's had…  _episodes_ like this, before. Jo told you what happened when he arrived at her house? How he didn't realize who she was? Or… even  _where_  he was?" she asked. Dean nodded, gazing wide eyed at the teacher. She continued. "It's called psychotic depression. He was diagnosed with it. A few years ago- Castiel, he," she glanced nervously at Dean, then kept her gaze with him. "He was admitted into a psychiatric hospital. When he was fourteen. It was an institution for kids his age with mental disorders," she explained. "He tried to," she paused for a moment, looking as if she were debating on whether or not she should share this information. then she continued, "he tried committing suicide by overdosing on painkillers. When he recovered he told the doctor that he heard voices telling him to do it- that he had been hearing them for over a year."

Dean realized he had been holding his breath. He let it out, now, his head feeling dizzy. "I had no idea," he spoke, his voice thin. Mrs. Madison was crying freely, now, and she met Dean's eyes once more.

"No, I didn't think he would tell you. It… I suppose it explains his behavior. He has a hard time… connecting with others. His mood constantly changes… he could never figure out other people or what their motives were. He just constantly felt threatened, and then decided to withdraw himself from people. I'm sure… I'm sure you were wondering why."

Dean nodded absently. "I… whenever he was with me or his friends he always seemed disconnected. Like he was thinking about something else- like he wouldn't allow himself to completely relax. He never actually seemed really...  _happy_ ," Dean admitted, not even knowing where this was coming from, but just knowing that it had been something he always worried about- something that nagged at him constantly. "I always thought I was doing something wrong," he added as an afterthought.

"You need to understand that there was nothing you  _could_  do," Mrs. Madison told him, seeming to be trying to reach out to him. "Castiel, he… friendship and connections with other people- that won't cure him. He's been through so much. He was betrayed by those he loved most, and yet he continued to love them. And he went through it  _alone_. He has no idea how to think good about himself, so creating relationships with others is… it's difficult for him. He doesn't understand how to do it. If he doesn't know how to love himself- if he can't find anything good about himself… his depression will only continuously become a part of him. He has a hard time trusting others because of what his father did-  _does_ \- to him." Dean gazed incredulously at the teacher, shocked she was revealing so much to him. "I… I tried getting him help. After he was released from the institution, I set up therapy appointments for him, for two months afterwards. But he was not compliant. He wouldn't tell the therapist anything about his father, or even much about his honest thoughts. They only discussed his hospitalization, and the voices he heard. He told the doctor, after two months, that he was feeling fine- that the voices had gone away. Eventually we stopped taking him to his appointments."

"But he wasn't okay," Dean argued, leaning forward. "How could you let him keep going without help?" he couldn't help but blame her.

Mrs. Madison looked tired- incredibly tired. But Dean still wanted his answer. "I've tried... helping him. His father didn't know about Castiel's appointments- he only thought I was spending time with his son- that I was  _alleviating the weight_ that he brought him. It was risky… and I was so  _mad_ at my brother.  _He_ had done this to Castiel. And I was just as terrible as him for not having Castiel taken away from that horrible house."

"Why didn't you report Mr. Novak to the police?" Dean asked, although he had a feeling he knew why.

"You must understand," Mrs. Madison pleaded, looking sadly into Dean's eyes, "Raphael was not always like this. He used to be so  _good_. Castiel used to be so close to him, and Raphael loved him endlessly. I know it's wrong to say, but I truly believe Castiel was Raphael's favorite among his children. It was plain to see. They loved one another so much. But he loved his wife more than anyone and anything. I believe that… that looking at Castiel, the child he thought nothing wrong of, and believing that he was the cause of Rachael's death… I don't think Raphael could handle it. I think it was too much for him to take in."

"That doesn't excuse him beating his son," Dean spat, tasting bile in his throat.

"Of course not," Mrs. Madison quickly responded. "But… I suppose I always believed he'd change. He's my  _brother_. It was so hard for me to let go the perfected, gentle image I had of him," she explained. Dean couldn't picture it- he couldn't picture Castiel's dad being anything remotely close to truthfully kind. He could only see the deceitful, posed happiness that he had done in front of Dean. Mrs. Madison continued.

"He didn't start hurting Castiel, at first. For a whole year, he just ignored him. He only paid attention to Castiel's siblings, and completely disregarded his son. The beating started later on… and it continued at a more brutal rate when Anna and Gabriel left. And Castiel… Castiel still loved-  _loves_ \- his father. He constantly defended his actions whenever it was brought up. He still holds onto those old memories he has. His father matters more to him than anyone… even with all that he's done to him. I think that all he ever wanted was to make Raphael love him, again- like he had, before. So he took in everything Raphael blamed him for- he truly believed it. And he never fought back, never tried to defend himself, because he felt he deserved it all. I used to threaten Raphael- I'd tell him how I'd take Castiel away. But he… he's incredibly manipulative. He always finds a way to eliminate threats."

Dean squirmed in his seat. "I noticed," he mumbled. Mrs. Madison met his eyes.

"What has he said to you?" she asked, breathless.

Dean was silent for a moment. He took a deep breath before he spoke. "I threatened to call the police on him. He told me he researched me and found some… uh, compromising things about me… and my family. I don't know how he did- or if he's even telling the truth, but…" Dean looked up and shrugged, his shoulders heavy. "I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk my family."

Mrs. Madison nodded. "I understand. Raphael, he's… he schemes. Sometimes it's hard to believe what he says."

Dean didn't reply. He didn't want to talk about Castiel's father. Not right now- not right here. "Do you think Cas is gonna be okay?" he asked in a breathless manner.

Mrs. Madison's eyebrows furrowed, and she looked hesitant. Before she could reply, though, a doctor walked up to them.

"Hesther Madison?" he asked. Dean looked up instantly, and before he could even comprehend it, Mrs. Madison was on her feet.

"Yes."

The doctor smiled gently. "Your nephew has stabilized. You may see him, now, if you'd like."

Dean got up, as well, dizzy with the information, and Mrs. Madison nodded. "Yes, we'd like to," she replied.

The doctor looked at Dean apologetically. "I'm afraid I can only allow family visitors until the patient has recovered and given consent."

"I'm his cousin," Dean piped up, not sure where the lie came from. Luckily, Mrs. Madison didn't rat him out.

"He's my son," she added, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. "He was the one that pulled Castiel from the lake," she added. "He needs to see him, it's not an option."

The doctor looked like he didn't believe the relations, but he sympathized with them, deciding the situation was unusual, to begin with. "Alright," he complied. "This way."

Dean's body hummed with anxiety as he followed the doctor and his teacher. He couldn't decipher what he was feeling- whether it was relief, fear, hope…. Was Castiel going to be different? Could he have nearly drowned and not lost something crucial?

Dean wasn't sure he was ready to know.

But he didn't have a choice. In only a moment he was in a hospital room that Castiel had been relocated into, and the moment he stepped inside he felt his breath catch.

Castiel was  _alive_. It was almost as if Dean couldn't believe it until he saw with his own eyes. And there he was- pierced by countless tubes and hooked to various machines but  _alive_. It was a miracle, and Dean had to resist his body's urge to collapse with relief.

His legs moved of their own accord, jerking forward to meet Castiel, but Mrs. Madison's hand grasped tightly onto Dean's wrist in a warning. He was, as far as the doctor was concerned, Castiel's cousin. He could not show the emotions that were building up within him. Not right now, at least.

The focus of his vision was Castiel as Mrs. Madison and the doctor talked about Castiel's current condition. Dean knew he should have listened, but even if he tried he would only hear the shouting screams of Castiel's name within his head- the utter and complete  _joy_ he felt from seeing the boy still alive.

Once the doctor left them alone, Dean was at Castiel's side in a flash, nearly collapsing onto his bedside, grabbing hold of Castiel's right hand in both of his own. Castiel's eyes were closed gently, dark lashes framing his pale cheeks, his head tilted to the side. Most of his face was covered by an oxygen mask, strapped around the upper and lower parts of his head and covering his mouth and nose. IV tubes stuck in his arms, carrying unidentifiable liquids, one with the unmistakable heavy crimson of blood. A heart monitor beeped at Castiel's bedside, strong and reassuring. It calmed Dean, knowing that Castiel's heart was beating once again.

Castiel's left wrist was bound in a new, clean cast, and just around the edges of it Dean could detect bruising. Right above his cast, Castiel's arm was wrapped in a clean white bandage. Some blood leaked through in dots of poppy red, and Dean had an uneasy feeling he knew what it was from.

Prying his eyes away from it, Dean focused on Castiel's face. His skin was snow white- an almost unnatural, corpse-like shade that made Castiel look nearly dead. If it weren't for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Dean would've believed he was.

"Cas," Dean gasped out, and suddenly everything is blurry with hot tears. Dean breathed out a shaky laugh, quivering lips curling into a smile as he lifted Castiel's hand up, planting a kiss onto it and then resting his forehead against it as he closed his eyes. He relished in the dull feeling of warmth Castiel's hand contained- how he could feel the weak yet present pulse in the thin fingers.

It was the most beautiful feeling in the world.

A hand made its way to his shoulder, and Dean's eyes snapped open as he looked up at Castiel's aunt, almost forgetting she was there. He wiped at his eyes as he set Castiel's hand down, looking away and avoiding Mrs. Madison's eyes.

They both gazed at Castiel.

"He looks terrible," Dean managed to speak.

"He could be much worse. You prevented that from happening," the teacher replied.

Dean looked up in shock- he hadn't expected to hear that. Drawing his lips into a line, he looked back at Castiel. "I'm just… I'm so glad he's  _alive_ ," he whispered.

Mrs. Madison had a pained look on her face. "So am I."

And they stayed like that, just looking at Castiel in complete silence, until the doctor came in and escorted them out. Dean left with an air of resistance, but he complied, knowing that he still had to keep up his false persona. When Dean got back to the waiting room, Jo and Ellen were awake, and everyone was looking at them, eager for news.

"How is he?" Jo asked first, only barely managing to beat Sammy to the question.

"He's recovering," Mrs. Madison answered, sounding completely worn. Jo and Sam looked from the teacher to Dean, their eyes filled with hope.

Dean smiled weakly, and nodded once. A sudden light air seemed to go about the room, and everyone looked incredibly relieved- ecstatic, even. Jo came up to Dean and hugged him tight, crying into his shoulder.

"I'm so glad," she managed to breathe out. " _God_ , I'm so glad."

At least for the moment, everything seemed fine.

* * *

When morning came, John walked up to Dean in his seat in the waiting room. Dean's feverish haze had just begun to settle down, and he looked up at his father hesitantly. He knew they'd have to talk, sooner or later. Dean stood up, attentive as he always was in John's presence. Bobby had left to work merely minutes ago, promising to be back as soon as he could. There was nobody to protect Dean from John's spite, now.

"You do realize…" his father began, seeming unwilling to touch on the subject, "that we're still going to have to move. We can't stay here."

"I'm not leaving," Dean replied, surprised by his own bout of resolve. "Cas is hurt, and he needs me. I'm not leaving him behind, especially not now-"

"Your duty is to your family, first," John suddenly hissed, leaning forward. "It's to your  _brother._ Friends come in second-"

"And he's not my friend," Dean interrupted, setting his jaw as he stared down his father. "You know he's not my friend."

John looked irritated, then desperate. "When did this happen?" he asked. "When did you-" he cut himself off, looking around them. He looked his son up and down, now.

"When did I become a fag?" Dean replied with a glare, finishing his father's question for him.

John looked angry. "That's not what I meant- you know that. It's just... this isn't  _you-_  you've- you always liked girls."

Dean felt like he was being punched in the gut. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint."

"Dean," John suddenly spoke, seeming desperate, now, "we can still leave. We can start over-"

"I'm fucking sick of starting over!" Dean shouted, suddenly, earning the attention of those around them. He could barely detect Sam's hand immediately grasping his arm, everything was white hot with his rage. "I had something good going on, for once! I've finally decided to stop being your fucking soldier, just for the first time in my life, and I've found real things to live for, and you want to take that from me!"

"Dean," Sam whispered, but Dean could barely hear him. He took a deep breath before he lowered his voice, not wanting to get kicked out of the hospital.

"I've put family first my whole life," Dean spoke under his voice. "While I've kept you and Sammy at my best fucking interest, you've been gone. You always talk about family being most important, but you're never  _here_ ," Dean ranted, feeling a burning in his eyes. "We're always there to do what you want. Where are you when  _we_  need you?"

John's features were indecipherable. He looked a mixture of angry, sad, regretful, and almost sheepish. "Everything I do is for you boys," he decided to respond.

Dean shook his head. "No- you're wrong. Everything you do is for yourself. Putting finding mom's killer before everything else- dragging us from place to place when you find the slightest clue.  _Dad_ , you've never put us first. While you were gone, night after night, who do you think tucked Sam into bed? Who do you think made him breakfast, took him to school, answered the unanswerable questions he would ask? Sam and I- we've been there for each other, without you. You were  _never_ there! You were never a part of this family."

John was speechless, and Sam was, too. Dean didn't look at his brother, he only gazed at the stern form of his father. The haze of angry red began to clear from Dean's vision as he took in breath after breath. What he was saying right now, it was what Sam had been saying for years: what he'd been shut down and ridiculed for even daring to speak.

It was all true. Dean had been so blind because it was  _all true._

He should have sided with Sammy. Dean's father was never present in his life-  _Sam_ was. Although Dean always said that family comes first, he realized that wasn't true. Sammy always came first. He always did.

And if Sam wanted to stay, Dean would stay, too. He would fight to remain in the life they built here.

He'd fight to stay with Cas.

John sighed, now, realizing that this was not a fight he could win- at least, not then and there. "Let's go home and get you some clothes. And maybe a hot shower," John murmured. "Where did you leave your car?"

So Dean went with his father, deciding that he might as well do that, if he was going to be arguing with him for the foreseeable future. They went to pick up Dean's car, and Sam left John's car to drive with Dean home.

The drive was silent for the first half. Dean was tired, his arms and legs felt like lead, and he felt as though he'd sweat himself a new layer of skin. It was extremely uncomfortable, and Dean had to admit his dad was right about taking a shower and changing, even though the thought of leaving Cas on his own for two excruciating hours unnerved Dean to no end.

"How're you feeling?" Sam asked, his voice hesitant. Dean glanced at his brother before looking back at the road.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Feelin' too many things to even explain."

Sammy's face twisted into a sympathetic feature. "Dean… last night, on the phone. I… I've never heard you like that. I've never  _seen_ you like that. It was scary."

Dean felt a sudden wave of guilt, although he wasn't completely sure why. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to drag you into this… it's- you were the first one I thought to call," Dean ranted as they pulled into their neighborhood.

Sam smiled sadly at that. "I'm glad you did. And I'm glad Cas is okay," Sam spoke in a hushed tone. Dean had to hold back his tears as a sudden second wave of relief crashed over him- just from hearing someone else say the words.

_Cas is okay._

When Dean parked in their driveway, Sam spoke, again.

"Can I go back to the hospital with you?" he asked, his green eyes hopeful, yet tired and lined with dark shadows. Dean had half the mind to say no- to tell Sam that he needed sleep, as he suddenly realized that Sam got less of it than him.

But he knew that wouldn't be fair. Castiel was Sam's friend, too.

"Of course," Dean replied, clambering out of the car, feeling a little dizzy on his feet. "We'll head back in an hour."

* * *

The shower should've felt good. It was hot and clean and it washed off the caked mud on Dean's body. Dean spent a majority of it just standing in the water- feeling the warm sprays trickle down him, just how he liked. But he couldn't enjoy it- there were too many opposing thoughts in his mind- questions that still hadn't been answered, threats that still stood, hopes that could still be dismantled.

It was too much to bear.

When Dean finished with his shower, he went to his room and changed into clean clothes. The fabric felt strange- Dean was already so used to the feel of grainy mud and heavy water weighing him down.

Jo had stayed behind at the hospital. Ellen and Jo would take their turns going home once Dean and Sam came back. So now they were left behind to keep Mrs. Madison company (the teacher was apparently not leaving until Castiel woke and she had sorted everything out). Sam had given Jo his number so she could call if there were any updates, and Dean found that he had spent a majority of his shower listening out for the ring of Sam's phone, which he had put on its loudest volume, just in case.

When he and Sam had finished getting what they needed, they headed back to the hospital, Sam texting Jo to let her know. She replied instantly, saying that there was no news on Cas- that his condition had remained the same. The update made Dean's gut wrench, although he knew that it would probably take a while until Castiel showed any visible signs of improvement.

They made it back to the hospital in thirty minutes flat- Dean had taken backroads that he knew nobody used. They hadn't told John they were leaving, and they only sent him a text message once they were already safely ten minutes away. He hadn't replied, since he was more than likely still sleeping.

It was nearly noon when they got back to the hospital. Dean and Sam rushed to the waiting room to the sight of Jo, Ellen, and Mrs. Madison all practically dead with sleep on the uncomfortable chairs. Jo looked like she was struggling to stay awake- her eyes drooped and swollen from tears, her face slack with exhaustion. Ellen was still barely awake, somehow, gazing at her phone and seeming to be debating on something. Mrs. Madison was just staring off into space, her face completely blank.

When Jo saw Dean, she nudged her mother's arm, garnering her attention. The two got up and approached Sam and Dean. Jo inspected her friend, looking him up and down.

"You still look like shit," she observed in a blunt manner.

Dean actually managed to crack a smile and a breathy chuckle. "So do you," he replied.

Jo gave a small smile before reaching over and pulling Dean into a hug. When she pulled away she looked Dean hard in the eyes. "Don't stress, okay? Just try and relax in the waiting room- I'll be back as soon as I can."

Dean nodded, suddenly feeling worried about Jo's absence. She was the only one that went through this with him- she was the only one that truly understood the weight of what they had seen and been through. Although she'd only be gone for a few hours, it was still a lot to handle on his own. "See you in a bit."

"Keep me updated," Jo answered sternly before giving Dean a pat on the arm. Ellen gave Sam and Dean a hug before she and Jo walked off.

When they were gone, Dean went and sat down next to Castiel's aunt, Sam sitting on the other side of him. Her trance seemed to break, then, and she looked at Dean, giving him a smile.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, sounding nearly like the concerned motherly voice Dean never really got to have.

"M'fine," he replied, avoiding her eyes. Why was everyone asking him that? Castiel was the one in the hospital room hooked to machines and struggling to wake up. "Have you seen Cas, again?" he asked.

Mrs. Madison shook her head. "No. He's being looked over, I think. For any abnormalities."

Dean didn't reply to that- he only looked in the direction of Castiel's room, fighting the pure instinct within his being that wanted to plant him next to that hospital bed. It was nearly painful to sit down and do nothing. Dean had no idea how much longer he could take just  _waiting_  and not acting or helping.

And then, as if by some sort of ironic chance, something happened that made Dean jump out of his seat.

A redheaded woman strutted powerfully into the room, looking for all other reason as if she was walking into battle. A man trailed at her side, his hair a mouse brown and his honey-colored eyes filled with absolute pure concern, darting about the room as if searching for someone. He leaned in towards the woman, whispering something, and Dean would have thought she didn't hear him- her facial expression was so unmoving- if it hadn't been for the sudden clench of her jaw and a low murmur she spoke in reply. They walked over to the waiting room's desk.

They could have been anyone, Dean knew that. This was a hospital, and Castiel wasn't the only patient. But Dean could sense a change in the air- could feel Mrs. Madison stiffen just barely beside him- could feel her breath catch, and then in a moment he was up and walking towards them, not quite sure why, or what he'd say.

That was until he caught what the redheaded girl said.

"I'm here to see Castiel Nova-"

"How do you know Cas?" Dean asked, beside them, now, and gazing at the two with curiosity and an air of suspicion. He couldn't help himself- his nerves had been wound up for hours, and he was exhausted and wary of everything. He could feel Mrs. Madison walk up behind him, now, her air evident in the way she held herself.

Anna looked straight at Dean, as if she was taken aback that he didn't know who  _she_ was- like Castiel having visitors other than herself hadn't been a possibility she expected. Instead of answering, though, her gaze drew upwards, landing on Castiel's aunt. Her lips closed, drawing into a line from her shock and evident discomfort.

"Hello, Hesther," she murmured, her voice thick and containing something Dean couldn't quite define.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked over at the teacher. "You know them?" he asked.

She didn't reply, only looking at the redheaded girl and brown-haired boy with an air of familiarity. Dean turned back to face them, and the girl spoke.

"Our names are Anna and Gabriel Novak," she spoke, her voice like thin ice, "we are Castiel's siblings."


	43. Truce

Dean's heart jumped in his chest, lodging itself into his throat. He gazed incredulously at the Novak siblings, aware that he probably looked insane. He was just incredibly shocked. Why were they here? Why  _now?_ Where were they before all this happened, when their little brother needed them most?

Suddenly, Dean felt incredibly angry. But he knew he couldn't say anything- not yet, at least. The only thing that mattered was Cas. Not his shitty father,  _or_ his shitty siblings.

"I take it you got his email?" Dean asked, voice cold in return to Anael's bland one.

Mrs. Madison looked confused at Dean's words, and he suddenly realized that she had probably not yet learned of Castiel's note. She wasn't there when Jo and Dean had explained the whole of the events of last night. They explained that Castiel left a "message" that gave them a hint where to look for him, but Jo and Dean had internally agreed not to mention who the note was sent to. So the adults, and Mrs. Madison, only knew what they had to, at the time.

Anael's eyes narrowed dangerously, both in confusion and at being interrogated. Flashes of gray-green peeked out at Dean through her thick lashes.

Instead of answering, however, she averted her gaze to Mrs. Madison. "How is he?" she asked, her voice sounding strained.

"Stable," the teacher replied, nodding her head towards an oncoming nurse. "I recommend you visit him, now. The visits are restricted to ten minutes each hour, since he is in intensive care."

Anael nodded stiffly, and before Dean could say anything else, Mrs. Madison was steering him away and towards where his brother was sat in the all-too-familiar waiting chairs. When Dean was about to protest, she bent her head in and spoke to him in a low tone, voice almost inaudible.

"Let them have their time with Castiel. It's two visitors at a time until he's woken up, and they're his immediate family. They can choose whether or not to let the doctor grant us access to visit, at all. And if you keep bantering her on, Anael will not hesitate to let the doctor know you are not my son, and we will  _both_  be in trouble."

Dean screwed his mouth shut, forcing it down into a line so hard he could almost taste blood on his tongue. He was furious, and he had so much he wanted to say. But now was not the time. He'd have to  _try_ to wait.

So Dean sat down, glaring at the siblings as they walked off, following a nurse who led them to Castiel's room. Anael did not look back at him, but Gabriel did, his brown eyes looking close to apologetic. Dean was too angry to care.

Sam began asking questions immediately.

"Who were  _they?_ " he asked, voice awed.

"Cas' siblings," Dean replied in a gruff manner, hoping Sam would leave it at that.

He didn't, of course.

"Cas has siblings?" Sam asked, face bewildered. "I've never seen them, before-"

"That's 'cuz they ditched him years ago," Dean replied, catching the sigh that Mrs. Madison let out.

Sam only tilted his head to the side, something Dean noticed he unconsciously picked up on from Cas. He suddenly wondered if Castiel's little habits stuck to everyone he interacted with. Dean wondered what  _he_ picked up from Cas.

"How did they know Castiel was here? How did they know what happened?" Sam asked, confused. Mrs. Madison leaned in, as well, also incline on finding out. Dean squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

"The note Cas left- it was an email, actually. He sent it to his siblings," Dean admitted, gaining shocked looks from both Sam and Mrs. Madison.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sam asked.

Dean ran a hand down his face, frustrated. "I don't  _know_ , okay? I didn't see how it would make a difference."

Mrs. Madison looked Dean in the eyes, seeming sad, now. "You do realize you cannot keep this from Castiel's family?" she asked, bringing up what Dean had been trying so hard not to think about. "His siblings would find out, sooner or later. His father… he's going to find out, too."

Dean shook his head, looking at the floor and trying so hard not to break down. "I don't want Cas to go through that. He's been through enough."

Mrs. Madison placed a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder and, for a moment, he felt as if he really were her son. "There's no good benefited from delaying the inevitable. Trust me. We must face this head on, and as soon as possible. My husband is going to take care of Raphael. I've told him what happened, and they should be speaking right now," she revealed. Dean looked at her, incredulous.

"He's going to bring hell to the hospital," Dean gasped out. "He's just going to make things  _worse_."

The teacher shook her head. "No, he's not allowed to visit the hospital until Castiel has woken and given his consent. I…" she flicked her gaze to Sam before looking back at Dean and lowering her voice, "I've decided to take charge. I'm going to step up. If Raphael does anything we don't want him to, I'm going to reveal everything he's done. We have proof- Castiel can account for it, and I… I'm preparing to take him into my own home. My husband and I are both ready to fight for guardianship over him, if need be."

Dean gazed at Castiel's aunt, slackjawed. He hadn't expected this- he hadn't even thought of the possibility. Suddenly, at least for the moment, Dean felt reassured. Castiel could live in a safe home. He could be  _happy_. He'd be with people who truly care for him.

But then doubt washed over the teen.

"What makes you think Cas would say yes?" Dean spoke, voice going weak. "He's… he always stuck by his father's side. Don't you think he'd still want to try and get back what they had?"

Mrs. Madison nodded, obviously having thought of that possibility. "I'm going to talk to him. I never said it would be easy, but… I believe it's the best shot we have. It's the best shot  _Castiel_  has."

Dean fell silent, mulling over this new information in his head. It should've been great news, Dean should have been  _enthralled_. But he couldn't help but let his doubts arise. He  _knew_ Castiel. He knew how stubborn he could be- how he put his father's wishes before anything else, even before himself. He couldn't help but think how Castiel worked so hard,  _nonstop_ , to please his father. And he knew how manipulative Raphael was. He remembered how he saw Castiel with a cast binding his wrist and bruises marking his face. Despite that, Castiel had defended his father- he had been  _brainwashed_ by him. It was terrifying.

Getting Castiel to agree with Mrs. Madison's proposition wouldn't be easy. In fact, it would probably be near damn impossible.

But the teacher was right. It was all they had.

* * *

When Anael and Gabriel walked back into the waiting room, Dean felt every nerve under his skin prickle with aggravation. He made a move to stand up, but Mrs. Madison held him down, giving him a warning look that he bode by with an air of resilience.

Anael led herself and her brother towards Dean, eyes pinned on him. Dean held up the eye contact, giving her the stoniest look he could muster. When she was only a foot away from him, she spoke.

"Since when was I granted a cousin?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing over indifferently at Mrs. Madison.

The teacher evenly held her niece's look. "You weren't. This is-"

"Dean Winchester," Dean replied, gathering back the redhead's gaze, "the guy who pulled your brother's limp body out of a cold lake," he hissed.

Fingernails dug into his arms, but the blond ignored it.

Anael glared. "Who are you to my brother?" she asked.

"I'm his best friend," Dean replied, instinctively. Technically, it was true. But it wasn't the whole truth, and the relation didn't seem to capture it all, once he had spoken it.

The girl scoffed. "Some good that did him."

Dean stood suddenly, earning a warning "Dean" from Sam, just as Gabriel gave a worn out "Anna".

"And where were you, huh?" Dean asked, merely centimeters away from Castiel's sister. "When your little brother needed you,  _where were you?_ "

Anael looked taken aback, for once. She quickly recovered, though, her mouth twisting into a quivering frown, and Dean thought for an instant she might begin crying then and there. She didn't, of course.

"You wouldn't understand," she spoke, her voice thick. "We didn't have a choice."

"There's  _always_ a choice," Dean confronted, anger seething through his veins and bringing a bitter taste into his mouth.

"Is that so?" Anael retaliated, venom lacing every syllable of every word. "And which one did  _you_  make that pushed Castiel to take his life?"

"Anael!" Gabriel exclaimed, horrified. Dean's heart had stopped, and he nearly took a step back, his eyes wide.

Mrs. Madison was up, now, face pink with fury. " _Both of you_ , sit down!" she exclaimed, pissed off beyond belief. "Shame on you two, arguing over someone who cares equally for you  _both_! No more of this- everyone sit down, and let's talk like civil people!"

Anael was flushed, whether with embarrassment, anger, or even both, Dean couldn't decipher. He couldn't figure anything out about the girl.

So Dean sat down, resisting his legs' urge to wobble as he tried to compose himself. He refused to look anybody- especially Anael- in the eyes as they all began talking.

"We're all here because we care for Castiel," Mrs. Madison spoke, her voice lower, although shaking, and attempting a calming tone- as if trying to connect all these opposing people. "He's been through a horrible predicament, and arguing with each other will not help him. In fact, the only way we  _can_  help him is if we get along and work  _together_. I'm going to need  _all of you_  to help me with this."

Gabriel was the first to reply. "What do you mean?" he asked- the first real sentence he had spoken since he arrived.

The teacher met her nephew's eyes. "I'm going to try and convince Castiel to live with me. Your uncle is currently speaking with your father, and if things go as planned, Raphael will permit Castiel to live with me without predicament."

Anael snorted weakly. "You clearly do not know our father," she murmured.

Mrs. Madison gazed stiffly at her. "If Raphael refuses, we will take him to court. And I will need all of you to testify on the charges we will put against him. You have all, to some extent, seen both the physical and psychological abuse Castiel has been put through by his father. I believe that, if we were to bring Raphael to court, and put him under everything he has done, my husband and I could win custody over Castiel."

"Have you ever stopped to think about what  _Castiel_  would want?" Anael retaliated. Dean almost flinched at their similar thought patterns. "You know he will not easily agree to this."

"I know," the teacher replied. "That is another way that I will need your help. I need all of you to talk to Castiel, once he wakes, and tell him that we want what's best for him- that we want him to be  _happy_. We must let him know how much he's loved- how we are all there to support him and truly care for him as family should. Surely, with enough reassurance, he will comply. He cannot get through this abuse alone, any longer. We are going to have to help him through this in any way that he needs."

Everyone, including Sammy (who only knew of Raphael's ways from certain clues and uneasy feelings), came to a silent consensus that consisted of nods and murmurs. They had all, to some extent, seen what Raphael could do. Nobody was incredibly keen on facing him, especially in court, where he was in his domain. The man would not be taken down without consequence, they knew that much. It almost seemed a hopeless fight.

But Dean would do anything for Castiel. He would do whatever it took to make sure he would be safe. He was tired of seeing someone he cared for so much being put through endless pain and torture. He was  _tired_ of standing aside, unable to help in any significant way.

Most of all, he was tired of promising Castiel things he couldn't be sure about. He wanted to look into those blue eyes, promise that everything would get better, and have it be the full and honest  _truth_.

It was more important to him than anything in the world.

"We'll do anything," Dean replied, summing up everyone's consecutive response. Mrs. Madison looked grateful.

"Thank you- all of you. With your help, I'm positive that everything will change for the better. We… we have a chance, again," she spoke, voice heavy. She averted her eyes to Anael and Gabriel. "And this time, we cannot let Castiel down."

Dean only hoped she was right.

* * *

The day dragged on uneventfully. Dean and Mrs. Madison would take turns with Gabriel and Anna visiting Castiel- one ten minute visit each hour, switching the hours. Dean felt a pestering annoyance towards having to share his visiting time, but he complied. Castiel remained the same each visit, anyways. No responses to Dean's voice. No twitch of his mouth or change in his breathing.

Nothing.

It was agonizing and so incredibly emptying. And each time he saw Castiel just barely holding on to life, Dean felt as though he were dying, himself. Dean had never let out so emotion at one time. He was utterly exhausted.

The hospital was a stressful place to be. Sick people were everywhere. Grieving people were everywhere. Death was everywhere. There were crying mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, grandmothers, grandfathers, friends. It was too much to bear, and Dean found that he had to take multiple walks outside the hospital, gulping in fresh air and using his legs, walking until they grew wobbly and his thoughts finally settled from the rampaging thoughts of  _Castiel, Castiel, Castiel_ \- and suddenly he wondered with a sickening pain how Castiel had done it. How had he lived with so much  _noise_ inside his head, for years, when Dean could hardly last a day of it?

Sam would go with him on most of these walks. They were there for hours of the day, and Sam spent half that time sleeping, and the other half talking to Dean about things that were surely meant to distract him.

But Sammy could only do so much. Dean's heart ached beyond having anything be done about it. He wanted to hear Castiel's voice- wanted to hug him and feel his arms wrap back around him. He wanted to see those blue eyes open and gaze at him with any emotion- whether it be anger, hate, sadness, worry…  _love_. It didn't matter. He just wanted to see Castiel truly alive. Breathing was only part of living- Dean needed to see  _emotion_ , he needed to see Castiel really and truly  _alive_.

Pretty soon Jo came back. She had taken a while (she explained over the phone, previously), because she was updating the group on Castiel's condition. They had all wanted to flood into the hospital, and Jo had almost let them before Dean warned her, telling her they wouldn't be able to see Cas anyways, and that they should wait until he wakes.

So she told the group the news, and they had all been incredibly antsy and saddened, demanding to talk to Dean in order to at least check up on him. He did a group call on Sammy's phone, and the influx of frightened voices and worried questions had Dean dizzy. He wished, with a burning sensation in his eyes, that Castiel could've heard them. If he had truly known how loved he was, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

Dean updated his friends on everything that had happened, even though Jo had done so. They all wanted it confirmed, as if they couldn't believe it, not until they saw it. Charlie cried over the phone, Meg was choked up, and Adam, Chuck, and Ash were all speechless, their voices sounding thick when they did speak. Dean was sure they had all been crying.

He did his best to reassure them, which he found a difficult task, since he could hardly reassure himself. Eventually, Dean and Jo managed to calm their friends enough to get them off the phone, promising them they'd call as soon as Castiel woke up.

Dean, his throat dry and strained from the effort of talking and holding back tears, left Jo, Sam, and the others to go get a drink from a nearby vending machine. He was absolutely frazzled, and it took multiple attempts for him to get a dollar into the cash slot with his shaking fingers. He managed, however, punching in the code for a water, and watching tiredly as it went through the machine and to the receiver slot.

"I know you're not his best friend," a voice spoke up, shocking Dean momentarily. He looked over to the source, and nearly groaned with annoyance when he caught a flash of red. With enforced effort, he managed to catch himself.

"Yes, I am," he replied, tiredly. He grabbed his water bottle from the vending machine, the temperature of the bottle freezing his already cold hands. He was busy unscrewing the cap to it and taking a sip when Anael spoke again.

"You're not  _just_ that," she clarified, nearly making Dean almost choke on his water. He looked at her, incredulously.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, breathless. Anael wasn't phased.

"Jo is his best friend. She talks about him like a best friend would. When  _you_ talk about Castiel, it's as if… it's like-"

"Like I love him?" Dean finished, his heart thumping a painful and rapid staccato in his chest. "Well, I do," he revealed, too shocked with his sudden heartfelt revelation to even catch Anael's next words. She repeated herself when Dean gave her a blank look.

"I knew you did," she spoke softly. Her feelings were indecipherable. It absolutely unnerved Dean to no end.

"Congratulations," he muttered, upset with himself that the person he first revealed his deepest feelings to had to be this bitch, of all people. He began to walk off.

"I'm not my father, you know," Anael retaliated. "It doesn't bother me. I don't think like he does- that's why I  _left_."

"And a whole lot of good leaving did, huh?" Dean spat back, turning to face the girl.

Anael was emotionless. She looked drained, Dean suddenly realized. He nearly felt sorry for her. That was before he realized she was a heartless monster.

"You must… understand," she attempted to reach out, looking uncomfortable. "It was not an easy situation."

Dean only gazed at her coldly, raising an eyebrow, as if to challenge her to continue- to try and find a way to justify what she and her brother had done.

Anael huffed, irritated. "Can we speak somewhere,  _alone_?" she asked, looking at the crowed of their friends and family, who were looking at the two with endless curiosity. They looked away when they were caught in the act, feigning nonchalance.

"Where do you recommend we go?" Dean asked sarcastically.

Anael shrugged, pulling some cash from her pocket. "There's a food court on the first floor. Let's get something to eat and bring some back for the others," she suggested. At Dean's hesitant stature, she spoke, again. "I've already informed my aunt," the redhead added.

Dean held his resolve. "I'm not hungry," he spoke, voice flat.

Anael shrugged once more. "Neither am I."

They walked to the elevators in silence.

* * *

It was strange. While the waiting room of the fifth floor was chaotic and heavy with different emotions, the dining area of the hospital seemed like a different place. Dean almost felt like he was in the food court in a mall- there were people eating with others, smiling and even laughing, although their faces looked weary. The only thing that reminded Dean of his location was the amount of scrubs-clad individuals around him.

They went to a sandwich shop. Dean got a turkey with lemonade, and Anael got a PB&J with a milk. Neither of them touched their food as they sat across from one another at a metallic table. The seats were uncomfortable. Dean found he was slowly falling asleep in them, anyways.

Anael's voice brought him back to consciousness.

"Although it is really none of your business, I want to explain my actions to you," was what she started out with. Dean nearly snorted- tempted to walk away right then and there. But he only squinted sarcastically, waiting for her to hear how ridiculous she sounded.

She didn't, of course.

"Gabriel and I, we were still quite young when our mother died. All we had left was our father, and he had always been the one to make the main decisions of the house- the one who influenced what happened. His say, it controlled us- that was just how we were raised. It was all we knew, and it just seemed  _normal_ ," she explained, glancing up at Dean before looking down, picking off the crusts from her sandwich in a delicate manner, as if it were something she did often. "When our father turned on Castiel… it only seemed natural for us to follow suit. He was the lead of the house, and it was as if… as if whatever he did would always be right, that he always had a reason to it."

Dean scoffed, and Anna caught him. She gave him an impatient look.

"Of course, later on I realized he was wrong. It took… well, two years, really. Once we noticed the… bruises," Anael's voice dropped to a whisper. She looked sick, almost green as she picked further at her meal. She took a deep breath. "When Gabriel and I found out, we were…" she shook her head, at a loss for words, " _furious_. We yelled at him, asked him how he could do such a thing. He merely told us that he was in charge, that Castiel was being punished. He had apparently "done something wrong" and my father said it was none of our concern. He drank  _so_   _much_ , there was not much we could do to stop his outbursts-"

"Besides call the police," Dean snapped.

Anael's eyes flashed with anger. "We had just lost our  _mother_ ," she spat out, livid. "Our father was the only family we had left. I know it may be hard to believe, but no child wishes to become an  _orphan_."

Dean bit down on his tongue to keep back his remarks. Anael continued.

"It got so bad, things were absolutely chaotic. Every time we tried to hide Castiel, our father would scream and yell and tell us how it was his home and he could do whatever he wanted. It was terrifying-  _he_ was terrifying. And whenever Castiel hid, whenever  _we_ hid him, our father would make the punishments worse.

"Then one day we found out our aunt was talking with Castiel in private. He told us, I think three years after our mother died, that Aunt Hesther would take us all in, that she'd take us away from what our father had become. It… it seemed like a miracle. But… our father found out, and he went absolutely insanse. He- he made a deal with us. He said that Gabriel and I could leave, but that Castiel would have to stay-"

"And you  _took_  that offer?" Dean exclaimed, baffled.

Anael looked at him hard. " _No_. Of course not. We… we turned it down. But then my father… he didn't give us a choice. He said, to some extent, that if we didn't leave, we'd all get treated how Castiel was treated. He threatened to make us fend for ourselves, that he would no longer support us, and he'd just-" Anael cut herself off, swallowing hard. Dean felt his heart stop when he caught a tear run down her cheek, one that she wiped stubbornly away as she huffed in a breath.

"Castiel came to us crying that night," she spoke, her voice shaky. "He begged us to leave,  _pleaded_ with us not to stay. He had gone absolutely hysteric, screaming and crying about how it was all his fault, how he couldn't bear to be the cause of anymore bad. He said he wouldn't be able to take it. He said that, if we were to stay, he'd never be able to live with himself. We tried everything we could to remain with him- to protect him- but he wouldn't have it. So we moved to Hesther's house. We left Castiel behind."

Dean imagined Castiel as a young child, alone in that giant house with his abuser. He shuddered, and suppressed the need to vomit. "Well I hope you're proud of your decision," Dean murmured. He was angry and tired and just overall pissed with all this bullshit. "I don't know why you're confessing all this to me- if you're trying to ease your guilt or-"

"You must mean a lot to my brother," Anael spoke up, cutting him off. "I can tell. So… despite our…  _differences_ , I know I should trust you."

Dean was taken aback. He could only manage to nod. Anael continued speaking.

"We'd see Castiel a lot, you know? He'd come over, we'd see each other whenever we could. It was just… it was so difficult. When I was old enough, I went off to college in New York. A year later, Gabriel joined me, going to a campus near mine. We rented an apartment together- we stayed close. And since we were away, we tried to contact Castiel more frequently, since our father could no longer threaten us. Castiel was so much younger than us… he was only starting high school when we were in college. And then… all of a sudden, he tried to take his life."

Dean tore his gaze away from the redhead. He didn't want to hear about this- he  _couldn't_ \- but Anael only went on.

"We went back home on the first plane we could catch. It was…  _God_ , it was a horrifying experience. He got shoved into some mental asylum, he got diagnosed with  _psychotic_   _depression_ , and Gabriel and I grieved so much, because it was  _our fault_ for leaving him. We… we should have been there for him. But our father wouldn't let us near him- he said that we'd be tainted by his "illness", as if he were some  _creature_. He threatened us when we tried to visit Castiel outside of the hospital, so we took to sending him emails. We wanted him to come live with us, we wanted him out of our father's house. But whenever we brought the possibility up, Castiel wouldn't reply. He'd only respond when we didn't bring the topic of him leaving into the conversation. It was nearly impossible to contact him- my father shut him away from us, and Castiel was stubborn about getting help from us. I nearly called the police before Gabriel talked me out of it, I was so frantic.

"A little bit before Castiel turned sixteen, I contacted him, again. I told him… that there was nothing, really, to stop him from leaving home. Soon he would be able to come live with us without any real trouble."

Dean spoke before she could continue.

"You mean, like… emancipation?" Dean asked.

Anael nodded. "He didn't respond to the offer, and after that he stopped contacting us, altogether. We sent countless messages… we even contacted our aunt, asked her to try and  _make him_ talk to us. But… well, Castiel is headstrong. He didn't give in. So we just settled with updates from Hesther. She taught in his school, now, and she promised to watch over him carefully for us. That was all we had, just reassurances over brief phone calls with her. Maybe an update once a month or two… but there was nothing we could do without stirring up a war in our family."

A part of Dean wanted to argue, wanted to tell her, once more, that there was always a choice. But then he realized how hypocritical he'd be. Whenever he had the choice to fight for what was right in his own family, he'd go for the easier option. He'd do whatever his father said.

In a strange way, Dean understood Anael, now.

"It's not your fault," Dean spoke in a hushed tone, not even believing what he was saying. Anael looked up, shocked. So Dean continued. "It was a difficult situation. I understand what you went through."

The redhead looked relieved, almost. She smiled, and Dean realized it was the first time she had done so.

"You're kind, Dean," she whispered, eyes filled with their constant swirl of emotion that Dean was sure he'd never be able to decipher. "You're an ass, but you're still kind."

Dean's lips lifted in the barest ghost of a smile. He took a sip of lemonade before murmuring a worn out, "Likewise."

A truce was finally beginning to settle in.

* * *

_His lungs were burning. That was the first thing he noticed. Then he noticed the dark… the cold. His limbs were heavy, useless at his sides, as if he were paralyzed. He didn't swim- didn't attempt to thrash about. He was just… still._

_Everything was so_ still _._

_He thought he could hear movement in the water, but it was muted sound, soon washed away by approaching darkness._

_The air. He needed to exhale the last of his air._

_The thought didn't frighten him nearly as much as he thought it would. His mother was here. She said everything would be okay. Soon, he'd be with her._

_Soon, the pain would be over._

_Suddenly, green eyes came to his thoughts. He couldn't connect them to anything, but he knew they were important… somehow._

_If he could cry underwater, he probably would have._

* * *

When Castiel woke up, his first comprehensible thought was that he was dead.

Consciousness came almost like a slow poison through his system. It trickled gradually, consuming him, but instead starting from his heart, reaching to his fingertips and toes through his veins. Everything was dark. Castiel was afraid to open his eyes.

 _Was_  he dead?

He could tell there was light around him. An intense illumination was burning red through his eyelids. He felt cold- it was a heavy aching pain that spread about him, paralyzing him. He couldn't breathe. He was shaking, now. His jaw was clattering- it was covered by something. His mouth and nose were covered, too. That's when he realized he wasn't breathing on his own- warm, heavy air was being pumped into and out of him, doing the breathing for him. He felt like a machine.

He opened his eyes.

Everything was horribly bright, so Castiel instantly closed them.

A voice spoke. Was it speaking  _to him?_  Yes, it was. It was telling him to open his eyes. To submit them to the light, once more.

Castiel opened his mouth to speak his objections, but he found that he couldn't talk. He squeaked pathetically, and then went into a fit of coughing, instead. It was a horrible thing, and for a moment Castiel felt as though he were coughing up blood, since his lungs felt as though they were being ripped apart raw from the sheer force of the hacking, and sharp exhaling rattles of air. The breathing machine was removed quickly from his face. He squinted his eyes open, catching the sight of a Dixie cup being held to his lips. He only realized then that mucus was dribbling down his chin, that it stained the front of his hospital gown as he gagged and retched and coughed.

Castiel tried to move a hand up to the cup- to hold it, himself, but he found that he couldn't use his arms. It was as if he had forgotten how to move. He couldn't even sit himself up- someone was currently propping him upwards, forwards, leaning over. He coughed into the cup, spitting out the thick substances that gathered into his mouth. He caught the alarming sight of harsh, bright red color in his spit up, and only heaved more at the sight of it. Voices spoke calming things to him, but he didn't register them, fully. He only coughed until he couldn't breathe.

His body was shaking, he felt incredibly hot and cold at the same time, and his lungs were practically seizing within him, taking control and not allowing him to even take a breath or have a moment to gather himself. His chest  _screamed_ , feeling as though it were being stabbed into by a rusty, jagged knife. All he could do was cough harshly in response. His teeth chattered so hard that they bit severely onto his tongue, and suddenly his mouth was filled with more blood than before. It rushed down his chin in crimson dribbles.

And, suddenly, he knew he wasn't dead. There couldn't possibly be a pain like this in death.

Everything grew dizzy. He could feel hot, sticky blood stain his lips. The voices grew higher in their pitch, quicker in their speed.

He promptly passed out.

* * *

Anael and Dean had just finished gathering everyone else's food when Anael's phone rang. She grabbed it from her pocket, and squinted at the screen in a confused manner. It reminded Dean of Cas, and he looked away with a pang in his heart as they walked to the elevator.

He could hear her voice as she spoke.

"Gabriel? What-"

Her hand seized Dean's arm in a tight, death-like grip. He whipped his head towards her, wide-eyed.

Her eyes were shocked, mouth dropped open in a speechless manner. "We'll be right there," she gasped, then turned to face Dean.

"It's Castiel. He's woken up."


	44. Everything Will Be Alright

When Castiel woke up a second time he almost forced himself to sleep, again. He was in so much  _pain._ Everything hurt, and he could hardly breathe. The oxygen mask was gone, replaced by tubes that stuck up in his nostrils. The entire inside of his nose burned. His lungs burned. Everything burned. His lips were dry and cracked and his breath rattled in his lungs. Everything was hot, and he could hardly stay conscious.

When Castiel opened his eyes he saw a nurse by his bedside, replacing the bags of fluid for his IV. She sensed him staring at her, and turned to meet his eyes.

"Mr. Novak," she greeted, giving him a smile that looked phony in its sincerity- like she was used to seeing sick people and had learned to block it out. "How are you feeling?"

Castiel opened his mouth to talk, but instead went into a fit of coughs. He forced his throat and lungs to calm down, putting a clenched fist in front of his mouth when he felt the familiar warm muck of mucus and blood collect in the back of his throat. A cup of water was handed to him, then, and after calming his coughing he drank it down in three gulps, not even realizing how parched he'd been.

"That's my fault," she apologized. "It's in your best interest to take it easy, for now," she spoke apologetically. "You have some respiratory problems. It will make it hard for you to talk and breathe. Your doctor would like to meet with you and an immediate relative in order to discuss your condition. Is there anybody you'd like me to bring in?"

Castiel swallowed and steadied his voice before he spoke.

"Is my father here?" he asked, his voice sounding weak, strangled, and foreign to his ears.

She gave another smile. "I'm not sure. I'll call for him."

Then Castiel was alone, once more.

He closed his eyes and tried taking in a deep breath, hissing at the burn that followed and then letting out a choked cough that he instantly cut short, closing his mouth to muffle it, not wanting to go into a series of spasms, again.

Castiel could hardly remember what happened. His memories seemed to be cut by static- fuzzy and indecipherable. He remembered going to sleep and going on the computer… then he was out in the rain… he wanted to go to Dean's house, but he didn't. Then he was at the graveyard.

And now he was here.

Castiel settled a hand on his chest, over the rapid beating of his heart. He felt exhausted- like all the life was being pulled out of him with every exhale of breath.

Did he really want to see his father, now? Could he handle what he'd say- what he'd  _do?_

Castiel had hurt himself. That much was obvious. He was alone in that graveyard… he walked to the lake. He remembered hearing his name being called, but couldn't recall who by. Every memory of that night was impaired. He could feel the events, but couldn't touch them- couldn't play them in his mind, as if they were clouded with thick fog.

It was like his mind was protecting him from the truth.

When the nurse walked back in, Castiel peeled his eyes open. She was alone.

"I'm afraid your father is not here, but your aunt and siblings are," she informed him. Suddenly, she seemed hesitant, glancing about before looking at him. "Also a very…  _persistent…_  'Winchester' asked me to let you know he's here."

Dean. Castiel's breath caught, and suddenly memories came flowing back to him. It was Dean who called out- no,  _screamed_  his name before he submerged himself in water. He remembered feeling someone grab him from under the lake, then haul him out. Then everything came to a blank.

Oh,  _God_. What had he done?

Castiel shook his head, although it made him dizzy. "No," he croaked, forcing back an insistent cough by clearing his throat. "My father," he managed to say before coughing.

The nurse nodded, once more. "I'll have your aunt bring him."

She left the room.

* * *

When the news got to Dean, the word "crushed" couldn't even closely depict how he felt. It was like using the word 'sad' to sum up how he'd been the past few days.

Hearing that Castiel didn't want to see him came as a shock. He hadn't even expected the possibility. After pestering the nurse further, asking her if she was sure she told him the right name- or if she had even told him at all- Dean's knees went weak and he collapsed onto a chair in the waiting room, his world spinning around him.

Castiel's siblings and aunt looked equally hurt, but they looked at Dean with incredible sympathy. After all,  _he_ had been the one who had been caring for Castiel for almost a year, now.  _He_ was the one who said he wouldn't let anything bad happen to him.  _He_ was the one who dragged Cas's body out of that god forsaken lake.

Dean felt tears gather in his eyes, and he ducked his head away from the overdose of condoling looks he was receiving to brush hard at his eyes. He intertwined his fingers together, resisting the urge to punch something when the nurse explained to Mrs. Madison that Castiel had insisted to see his father, and nobody else.

His fucking  _father_.

The thought made Dean's insides boil, and he pushed back the urge to throw up. Out of all the people who were here and who cared for him, Castiel wanted to see  _that_ bastard?

It was incomprehensible.

Dean didn't know what he'd do when Mr. Novak walked in. He didn't know if he'd even be able to stay in the same  _building_ as him.

He'd have to, though. He couldn't leave the hospital, especially now that Castiel was awake. He needed to see him. He'd have to wait until Castiel was ready.

But he couldn't sit idly by and let Castiel get hurt, again.

Standing up, Dean walked over to where Mrs. Madison was stood. The nurse had just gotten Raphael's contact information and left, and now the teacher was alone and troubled looking.

"Can I talk to you?" Dean asked, his nerves on edge. The teacher looked at him, then over at the others. Dean could practically feel their gazes on his back.

"Of course," she spoke. "Let's take a walk."

Feeling particularly antsy, Dean agreed. He needed to move. He needed to let out steam. His legs moved of their own accord, and before he could even comprehend it they were down the elevators, out the doors, and then outside, walking in the path Dean had continuously went on the past day. He couldn't stop moving. But Mrs. Madison didn't protest, she only followed quietly.

After a moment they stopped at the parking lot. Dean's heart felt heavy, and for a moment he could hardly breathe- he was just so  _angry_.

"Cas can't be in a room alone with his father," Dean spoke to Mrs. Madison in a hushed tone, turning to look hard at her. She returned his gaze with tired, shadow-underlined eyes.

"I know," she replied. But that wasn't good enough. She  _didn't understand._

"No- you don't," Dean retaliated. "You didn't see what happened before all this," Dean went on, although he knew somewhere in his mind that Mrs. Madison was probably quite aware what Raphael was capable of. "His dad, he's manipulative. Before all this Raphael hurt Cas' wrist badly, and he bruised him up and terrified him and Cas kept going on and on about how it was an accident, how his dad didn't mean it- it's  _insane_. He'll convince Cas to come home with him, and then it'll all repeat itself-"

"We  _won't_ let that happen-"

"How can you be sure?!" Dean exclaimed, now, startling the teacher. "Raphael is a lawyer- he's probably ready to do anything to keep Cas, and we don't even fucking know why! He hates him, he just wants to keep him so he can keep hurting him! And he's going to win- there's no fucking way  _we_ can win, not if he talks to Cas and makes him feel like all this is his fault! Cas will do anything for his dad, he won't tell the truth if he's brought to court. He's going to keep defending everything his father's done, no matter what. And even if his dad doesn't want him, he's going to do  _something_ to Cas. He's going to hurt him- he won't let this go without making some goddamn mark," Dean ranted.

Mrs. Madison caught Dean's arm, stilling him. He hadn't even realized he'd been pacing. "Dean, you need to calm down," she advised, eyes watching him carefully.

"I can't," he replied. His hands were shaking, and he balled them up into fists, now. "We need to do something. If we can't talk to Cas, then we need to talk to his dad before Cas sees him. We can even tell the nurse not to let Raphael see him."

The teacher contemplated Dean's statement. After a moment, she nodded. "I'll speak with him and make our stance clear," she promised. "But I need you to stay out of the way," she added when Dean opened his mouth to speak. He furrowed his eyebrows, now, hurt. "Raphael has it out for you, possibly more than for any of us. If you anger him, he could make things difficult."

Pursing his lips angrily, Dean ground his teeth together and looked away. He could feel the teacher watching him- waiting for his response. He nodded, now. "Okay- fine."

Mrs. Madison smiled, now, although her eyes were still sad. "Everything will get better," she assured him. "I promise."

He wondered how many times Cas had been told that, and how many times he'd been let down.

* * *

Castiel had no idea what he was doing.

It wouldn't be the first time, he supposed.

He was propped up in his hospital bed, now, twiddling his fingers together as he waited, focusing on breathing in and out without coughing. Every now and then the rattling in his chest would become too much, and he'd begin coughing uncontrollably. But, for the most part, he managed it with a distant air of ease.

Anael and Gabriel were here. They were only a few rooms away. He could only barely remember his apology letter to them, and a flush of shame came over him. He hadn't expected to live through this, at the time. He hadn't been in the right mind, but he knew what he was doing, in a way. He didn't want to see the chaos he had caused, he thought he'd be  _dead_.

But he wasn't. He was alive. Dean had stopped him, and now he was alive.

Dean was here, too. A part of Castiel wanted to see him  _so_  badly. It hurt being away.

But then he remembered the look on Dean's face when Castiel had last seen him. He remembered all the awful things he had said to him… Dean didn't deserve all those horrible words. He didn't deserve  _this_.

Castiel still missed him. He missed the feeling of being in Dean's arms- how he always  _knew_  it was the safest place he could ever be. He missed riding in the passenger seat of the Impala, listening to Dean's music and watching him as he talked to Sammy, glancing at his little brother through the windshield as they spoke.

He missed those eyes. Those neverending green eyes that reminded him of the dew soaked park grass that he'd run on as a kid. It was an intense green that never failed to stir up butterflies in Castiel's stomach. It was a green that always found time for him, watching as Castiel would ramble about things that didn't matter.

It was a green that was full of tears when Castiel pushed Dean away.

How could he have done that? How could he have hurt someone he loved so much? Dean just didn't  _deserve_ that. He was too  _good_.

But Castiel wanted the easiest option. He didn't want the pain of only seeing Dean in small amounts. He didn't want the pain of missing him and of wondering when he'd move on and leave Castiel behind. He was afraid. He was always  _afraid_. And, even now, he couldn't stand up for what he truly wanted.

He couldn't stand up to his father. He couldn't stand up to the bullies. He couldn't stand up to the voices in his head. He couldn't stand up to Dean and tell him his true feelings. He couldn't stand up for  _himself._

There was nothing Castiel could do. He was weak. And he was ashamed of himself.

Castiel needed his father here. He needed to start with him- to make amends and apologize for all he had done. Once he settled things with his father, he could do so with his siblings and his aunt.

Then Dean and his friends. He'd mend all his relationships, if he could.

Castiel debated on having Dean sent to the room right away. He was afraid, and the thought of having his father in here made his heart jump terribly in his chest.

So he thought of green eyes, and gathered his courage. This time would be different.

He could hold his own.

* * *

When Mr. Novak entered the hospital room, he immediately stood out. Dean was sitting off in a corner with Sam, and Bobby (who had just arrived). Anael, Gabriel, and Mrs. Madison awaited the intimidating man.

He could feel his heart start kick in his chest at the sight of Castiel's father. Adrenaline trickled through his veins slowly, increasing in its force the longer Dean stayed in his seat. But Sam's hand was placed on Dean's knee in warning, fingers digging into his leg to keep it from jumping and to remind him to  _stay still_.

Luckily, Mr. Novak never saw him. He was too busy mustering up something probably awful to say to his children. Judging by their hard looks when he spoke, he couldn't have been rejoicing joyfully with them. Mrs. Madison slid expertly between the Novak siblings and their father, cutting off their conversation and giving her brother a steely look. She spoke something sharp, and Dean wished he could hear what she had said, because Mr. Novak looked like he'd been slapped clean across his awful face.

Dean still wished he could help- he had more than a few words to say, himself.

It seemed to work, though, and Mr. Novak walked off to Castiel's hospital room, swatting a hand through the air at his family as though they were a particularly unwanted fly.

Mrs. Madison's hands were clenched into fists, her face pink with rage. She calmed herself, though, coming back to Dean where she sat down and crossed her arms. A man suddenly walked into the room, looking flustered. He had a shaggy beard and mouse brown hair. His eyes were gentle, and he was donned in a light blue plaid shirt and old jeans. He walked towards Mrs. Madison, and when she noticed him she looked instantly relieved, standing up and walking off to meet him with a hug.

Dean felt entranced, for some reason. It felt strange to see such a happy couple. Even his friends had their family problems. Jo didn't have a dad, Dean didn't have a mom, Charlie had her grandparents. Adam and Ash and Chuck all had problems at home- fighting parents, absent parents, drunk parents. It almost seemed like no married couple was happy.

But that wasn't the case with Mrs. Madison and her husband. The way they embraced almost made Dean look away. The love they displayed brightened up the once horrid mood of the waiting room. Dean felt his heart swell at the thought of Cas living with these two. It was exactly what he deserved: two people filled with the love and parental compassion that Castiel hadn't been given in so long.

Castiel had a chance to start over. He had a chance at a truly good life. And there was no fucking way Dean would let that slip from him. Castiel deserved a real family. Or he at  _least_ deserved a chance at it.

He just hoped Castiel would take it.

* * *

When his father walked in with what Castiel assumed to be the doctor, he felt his heart stop. Dark, angry eyes met his own, and Castiel wondered how the doctor didn't notice Raphael's lethal stare. It seemed to set the room on fire.

Castiel silently pleaded with his father to understand, but that dark gaze was emotionless, now- blank and empty. He wondered how those eyes could have possibly once contained the utter joy they used to hold. He wondered if this man could even possibly be the same one that used to make him turkey sandwiches and take him to soccer practice and toss him in the air, catching him with a bright smile on his face.

He suddenly realized, with a horrible pang in his gut, that that man had passed. He was gone, and there was no bringing him back.  _This_ \- what he was, now- is what he would always be. There was no changing someone who had been through what Raphael had been through, and done the things he had done. He drove out all those he loved, and scarred the one person left who still cared.

But Castiel couldn't help but try. He spent almost all his life trying to mend their relationship. He needed to give it at least one more shot.

This would be the final test. After this, he'd take no more.

Castiel hadn't even realized the doctor had been talking, he was so caught up in his thoughts. The word "pneumonia" broke his trance, and he turned to look at the doctor, his eyes wide.

"Pneumonia?" he asked, voice scratchy. He resisted the urge to cough.

His father gave him an irritated look, but the doctor only gave him a nod. "Yes. It could take a week for you to recover, maybe even two. In the meantime, it would be in your best interest to stay here during that time so we can continually check on the infection's progress, and to help with your breathing. You coughed up blood when you woke up, which can sometimes be one of the more severe symptoms of the infection- I'd just like to keep track of it. Also, I'd like to do some tests and keep an eye on you to be sure there are no other casualties from your near drowning."

Castiel nodded, feeling exhausted. He didn't realize how serious this all was- he had been too preoccupied with everything that was happening with his family and friends. He hadn't stopped for one moment to assess the real damage he must have brought on himself.

He almost  _drowned_. This was the second time he had hurt himself due to the voices in his head telling him to do so.

Except, this time, it was worse. Now he had  _seen_ things. He had seen a figure in his room. He had seen his mother at the lake. Castiel had been admitted into a short term psychiatric hospital for a few weeks, last time. What would the penalty be, this time?

Castiel focused on his doctor, who was now looking at him, as if expecting an answer. He realized it was the same doctor who had helped Castiel the last time he tried to take his life. He looked at Castiel with a condoling familiarity.

He had asked a question. Castiel had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he completely ignored him.

"What?" he asked, voice raw.

The doctor repeated himself.

"You have a history of psychotic depression," he began, easing into the heavy conversation. Castiel nodded, hesitantly. "Last time you were here, you told me you heard voices. Did you hear those voices, again? Have they come back?" he asked.

Castiel swallowed hard, fiddling with the hospital blanket. "They never left," he managed to gasp out.

It was silent for a moment. "Did you try to hurt yourself, Castiel? Were you aware of what you were doing?"

"It doesn't matter whether I was aware or not," Castiel spoke, coughing before he began. "I always wanted to die," he choked out, "I would've done it sooner or later. The voices just pushed me to finally do it."

It was silent. The doctor turned to talk to Castiel's father, now. Castiel blocked out his words. He already knew what would happen. As soon as Castiel was discharged from this hospital, he'd go to a psychiatric one. Probably for the whole summer. Maybe even longer.

When the doctor talked in a low murmur about contacting a psychiatrist, Castiel gazed off at the floor to the right, refusing to meet his father's eyes where they would no doubt be laden in shame.

The doctor was writing something on his clipboard. The scratching of pen on paper was agonizing. Castiel spoke up.

"That's not all of it, though," he interrupted quietly, making the doctor look up, face a mask of curiosity. "I saw things, too… this time, I mean."

The doctor gazed at Castiel for a moment, and he could feel his father's anger fill the air of the room.

Mr. Novak broke the silence.

"Could I have a moment alone with my son, please?" he asked the doctor.

"Of course," the man replied before giving them both a polite smile and walking out.

It was silent once more.

"Dad," Castiel spoke up, hesitant.

"Do not call me that," he interrupted, surprisingly calm and cool, now. If anybody were to look through the room's window, they'd think the two were just having a casual conversation. Castiel shut his mouth, watching his father, carefully. "You've lost privilege to ever calling me that," he added. "Do you realize what you've done? This is the second time you've done this, and I've always made it clear to you not to talk about things you may see or hear. You cannot go to heaven if you kill yourself, you do realize that?" he asked, almost desperately, now. Castiel only gazed back, feeling all his arguments dissolve. He was starting to give into the sinking feel that this wasn't worth it. What could he accomplish now that he hadn't accomplished in years?

His father would never love him, again. And the pain of that seized Castiel's heart, making tears burn at the back of his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut his lips closed again when they quivered.

Mr. Novak only observed his son in a detached manner. "Your aunt wants custody of you. I'm beginning to think that's a marvelous idea, seeing as I want nothing more to do with you."

Castiel let out a wet gasp, now, not even realizing that he had already started crying. "Dad,  _please_ ," he begged, now, voice choked up. "We used to be happy- we were  _family_ ," Castiel spoke, reaching out a shaking hand to his father, trying to come up with  _some_ connection- some last minute closure. Perhaps he could rouse up the ghost of his past father. Perhaps he could reestablish what they once had. " _Please_ , let us be like that, again. We were so close, once, don't you remember?"

Mr. Novak look away in a disinterested fashion. "Yes, I do recall the happiness we had. I also remember it being before you murdered my wife," he spoke in a drawl.

That came like a punch in the gut, and now Castiel's hand fell. He shook his head, trying with all his might to control the anxiety crawling up his throat. "No- no,  _please_ , no. I tried- I tried  _so hard_ to make you happy," Castiel cried. "I just want us to be family, again. Please, I tried so hard to make up for what I did-"

"It wouldn't have  _worked_ ," Mr. Novak interrupted, turning on Castiel, now. His eyes were filled with rage, and he composed himself before he spoke. "It wouldn't have worked, because  _I don't care_. I don't want you, and I will  _never_ forgive you."

Castiel just continued to shake his head, unable to believe his father's words and trying so hard to stop crying and to try and find something to say- some last minute attempt to change his father's mind. "No-"

"Your stuff will be moved out of my house, so you don't need to step foot into it, anymore. You will live with your aunt, and you will not speak to me, again. You are not worth the trouble you have caused, and a fight to keep you is not a fight worth putting myself through. You are  _never_  to contact me, not for money, graduations, clothes, items,  _anything-_ not _any_ occasion. I will not bring myself into your life, no matter what. And you will not bring yourself into mine. Should you find yourself without a home, I want you to consider a foster care before me. We are not family. We haven't been for many years, and I expect you to sear that into your mind."

Castiel was out of words- it was as if every word his father spoke severed Castiel's hope bit by bit, until he was left a hysteric mess. He couldn't even manage one coherent thought as he tried to control his fast-paced breathing and uncontrollable crying. He gripped the sheets with his good hand, looking down at them and curling into himself as his father left.

"I will call your aunt in," were the last words Castiel ever heard his dad speak.

And for the next few years of his life, Castiel would go to bed every night thinking of all the things he could have said to his father, and how none of them were quite good enough.

* * *

Anael rushed into the hospital room to the sight of Castiel curled in on himself, crying, and breathing hysterically. She automatically sped to his side, gathering her brother up in her arms without a second thought.

" _Castiel_ , sweetie, it's okay," she soothed, running a hand through his hair and putting another firm hand flat on his back. She tried to contain his shaking, and could feel tears burn in her own eyes, now, hearing the sobs of her brother- seeing him in so much  _pain_. She planted a kiss on the top of his head, nuzzling her face into his hair and holding him tight. "It's over," she affirmed. "It's over, it's all over. You're safe, you're here, we're going to take care of you. It's over, it's over, it's over-"

Gabriel, Mrs., and Mr. Madison came to Castiel's side. Gabriel held his brother's hand, and everyone stayed silent as Anael spoke words of comfort to her brother.

"We're never leaving you, again. You don't have to be alone with him, anymore, you never have to see him again- I promise, Castiel,  _I promise_. Never, again."

This, it turned out, would be a promise that they did keep.

* * *

After Castiel's family spent a good hour with him, they came out to the waiting room. In that time, John had arrived. He was silent, just sitting with Bobby. Mrs. Madison looked teary but joyful when she came into sight, and she spoke with Gabriel as they walked. Anael smiled upon seeing Dean. She looked exhausted. Dean stood up, and Sam followed suit.

"He asked for you," she told him, then looked at the other Winchesters, and Bobby. "You're welcome to see him, as well."

Dean's heart swelled and, before even checking to see if his family followed, he was on his way to Cas' room. He could feel Sam's presence behind him, but that didn't seem to calm the racing of his heart and the sweating of his palms.

Before he could comprehend it he was in Castiel's room.

It was like time slowed down.

Castiel was sitting up in his bed, looking down at the bland hospital sheets that sat on his lap. He looked up, however, at Dean's arrival.

His eyes were open. They were blue and alive and bright, although red-rimmed. Color had returned to Castiel's cheeks. The oxygen mask was removed from his face, replaced by tubes that sat under his nose. Castiel was breathing fine, though. He was moving and alive and  _he was looking at Dean_.

Unable to help himself, Dean made his way over to Castiel, eyes locked on blue ones. Suddenly Castiel became blurry and it was because Dean was crying but it was okay because Castiel was reaching out to him, grasping weakly onto his hands and pulling him onto the hospital bed and now Dean was hugging Castiel tight, and he didn't think he could ever let go.

Castiel was shaking in Dean's arms, and he grew worried for a moment before he choked out a sob and realized that it wasn't Castiel who was shaking.

It was himself.

"Shh," Castiel soothed, a hand falling between Dean's quivering shoulders. "It's okay," he whispered, although he sounded choked up, as well.

Dean let out a strangled cry at the words, one that echoed throughout the room and was muffled by the skin of Castiel's neck. He struggled to gain a good breath between his panicked ones, wet with tears, before he spoke. "I never thought I'd hear your voice, again," he sobbed before he could even register speaking. He was falling apart, but it didn't matter because Castiel was here and alive and keeping him together.

"I'm sorry," Castiel spoke, voice barely there, hands gripping on weakly to the material of Dean's jacket. "I'm so,  _so_   _sorry_."

A shaking hand went up to Castiel's hair, burrowing into the thick locks. "I'm so glad you're okay," Dean gasped. " _God_ , Cas, I'm so-" he cut himself off, shaking his head in its place cradled into Castiel's neck as he shed more tears.

Castiel's fingers rose up to the back of Dean's neck. They were cold, but Dean didn't care, because they warmed up against Dean's skin. The feel of such familiar fingers making calming circulations against him was like pure bliss. Dean couldn't ever recall feeling such a heart-drop sensation of relief.

Dean pulled away, although his arms were still around Castiel, and looked at his face. He was horribly pale, but there was a flush to his cheeks that hadn't been there, when Dean had last saw him. His eyes were bright with life- the most exotic part about him. And his lips were no longer blue, instead a rosy pink and parted as breaths inhaled and exhaled between them.

He was alive.

Dean couldn't seem to tell himself that enough because  _Castiel was alive_.

Giving a quivering sigh, his heart heavy in his chest, Dean's hands moved to cradle Castiel's face, thumbs landing on cheekbones and running along them- tracing the gift of color that laid there.

Castiel only looked back at Dean, seeming lost in his eyes. His hands rested on Dean's shoulders, now, still where they sat. Eyebrows furrowed with the effort of holding back more tears, Dean leaned in, tilting Castiel's head downwards as he placed a kiss firmly on his forehead, eyes shutting closed when tears began to escape. Castiel's grip tightened, and when they parted once more, Castiel only brought him back into their hug.

"Forgive me," Castiel spoke, voice rattling from disconcertingly wet breaths.

"Not your fault," Dean murmured, placing a kiss into the skin of Castiel's neck, where his face now laid. He pulled away, again, and looked into Castiel's eyes. They were filled with tears that overflowed, now, spilling down his cheeks. Dean was crying, too.

Castiel's fingers fluttered up to Dean's face, and they wiped away his tears. Dean smiled at that- a quivery, tight lipped smile. He pushed Castiel's hair back from his forehead, running his fingers familiarly through the mop of raven hair and smiling fondly at the strands that wouldn't stay down. He gazed once more into Castiel's eyes, taking in the sound of his breathing and the life his body now contained. Warmth emanated from Castiel into Dean's palms, seeping into his very being.

"I love you," he said, suddenly. He didn't know where it came from, or how it came about- only that it did. "God, Cas, I love you so much," Dean told him, shaking his head, unable to look away from those captivating blue eyes- the ones that stole him away since day one. The ones that threw him into an endless spiral of mayhem that he wouldn't give for the world.

And then Castiel smiled back, and those eyes spoke things Dean felt he could never understand, but that he would try his damn hardest to grasp. He let out a shaky laugh, and pulled Dean back to him with more force, this time.

"I love you, too," he spoke, and the words embedded themselves into the skin of Dean's neck, sinking into his flesh and his being.

I love you, too.

I love you, too.

I love you, too.

The words replayed-  _reverberated_ \- in his mind, and everything suddenly felt so clear. It was the light in the storm- the calm through the fucking chaos of his life. It was the annual chocolate cake and the bedtime songs. It was the grip of Sammy's hand on his wrist- the tight hold of Jo's arms. It was the rise of Bobby's voice, excelling over John's- the strong guide of Ellen's order. It was the cries and frantic voices of his friends, cut by static on a cold phone. It was the digging of nails into his shoulder, the words of warning from Mrs. Madison. It was the give of Anna's harsh exterior, the hidden permission and trust.

It was  _love_.

_I love you, too._

Castiel loved him.

Dean had found  _love_.

And it seemed that was what he needed, all along.

* * *

From where John stood at the doorway of Castiel's hospital room, he was conflicted.

No. Angry was probably a better word.

He had lost his son. He had lost the man that he had been sure to raise so carefully. The one that he was so sure would always continue to take care of Sammy- the one that always took care of  _him_. Dean always kept the family going. And now he was going through pain that John had used all his effort to prevent him from ever having to experience.

Dean's heart belonged somewhere else. It belonged to  _someone_ else.

And John didn't think he was ready to let Dean go- not onto such an unpredictable path.

He walked out of the room, unable to stop replaying his son's reaction in his head. He had never seen Dean so broken- so  _weak_. It brought back John's memories of Mary- what he had gone through after she was gone- the way his own exterior had broken the moment she had left his life.

He never wanted Dean to feel that. He had tried so hard to protect and prepare his son from that kind of loss.

Bobby had followed without a moment's hesitation, and he spoke up, interrupting John from his own thoughts.

"And where do you think you're going?" the gruff voice asked. John turned around to face his brother-in-law and best friend.

"Nowhere," he replied in a cut fashion. Bobby raised his eyebrows.

"Your sons need you in there. How do you think they'll feel when they look for you and see you've gone?"

John scowled. "They clearly don't need me, anymore."

Bobby gave him a condescending look. "This is good for them, John. Attachment is  _good_. Hell, Castiel is the best thing that's ever happened to Dean-"

" _Please_ , do explain to me how you think  _this_  is the best thing for my son?" John asked, gesturing grandly towards Castiel's room, through the window. "Present me your wisdom, tell me how the hell you think this is  _good_."

"You raised him like a  _soldier_ , John. He had no emotions- he cared for nobody, other than Sam! Hell, when you lot moved back here you wanna know what happened when I visited? I caught Dean hiding a pocket knife behind his back when he saw it was only me at the door," Bobby rambled, fuming as he stepped up closer to John, gazing lividly into his eyes. He kept up their gaze until he composed himself, and continued. "Castiel has changed him for the better. He brought him emotions- he gave him something to  _live_  for."

"My son has plenty to live for," John hissed. "He's been protecting his brother- he's the man of our family, he's a smart kid and he's strong and that's purpose in itself!"

"But is that what he  _wanted_?" Bobby asked, stepping forward. "Have you ever stopped and considered the fact that caring for the family is  _your_ godforsaken job? How on  _Earth_ could you put that sort of weight onto a child?"

"Don't you question my parenting skills," John seethed. "You have no right to that-"

"I have  _every_  goddamn right! They're my boys as well as yours!"

John was shocked still. He suddenly realized what Bobby was implying. But he prodded him on, just to be sure.

"We're supposed to be in Colorado by next week. What do you expect me to do?" he asked, feeling cold all over.

Bobby squared his shoulder as he stared down his best friend. "Leave them here, John. Leave them with me."

John shook his head, his heart sinking. Although he knew what his friend would say, it still didn't lessen the blow- the mind shattering news of it all. "No- no, I can't just-" he broke off, looking around them as he tried to gather his thoughts. "I can't  _abandon_  them, Bobby," he spat out, feeling angry, now.

The older man looked sad at that. "You already have. They're all grown up, now. There's no more raising left to do. All they need is a place to stay and live out the rest of their childhood while they can," Bobby spoke, stepping towards his friend. John just shook his head, again, feeling his heart constrict. Had he really missed out on his sons' lives? Had that much time really passed?

Somewhere, deep down, he knew the answer to that. But he buried it, refusing to face what he had inevitably done- how he had given up on his family in a crazed pursuit of revenge for his  _family_.

It was all so messed up.

Bobby put a hand on John's shoulder. "John, Dean will be in  _college_ , soon. Sam will be in high school this year," he sighed, ducking his head as his hand dropped. He looked up and straight into John's eyes, now. "They need to settle down. This insanity has to end."

"I can't settle down with them," John spoke in a hushed tone. "But I can't leave them behind."

"This is the town they were born in. It holds bad memories, but also  _good_  ones. Let them choose where they want to be. They're damn well old enough to do so. And while you're off leaving them alone in hotels or condos, they won't be safe. They'll be safer with me, and you'll always know where they are, and that they're under more than just Dean's care."

Bobby could see John's reserve crumble. So he eased him in, now.

"When we get out of here we can all at least talk about it," Bobby suggested.

John nodded. "Alright," he agreed. "Fair enough."

* * *

Dean was sat in a chair at Castiel's bedside, holding his hand. It was after Sam and Bobby and John had left and the two had sat in ten minutes of silence when Dean spoke.

"Mrs. Madison and I are getting your things, tonight," Dean revealed, rubbing a soothing thumb over the top of Castiel's hand when his fingers tightened.

He didn't reply. So Dean continued speaking.

"We were gonna leave all the furniture," he explained before giving Castiel a sudden smile, "Don't tell her I told you, but Mrs. Madison said she was gonna get you a bookshelf bigger than the one in your room. And a new desk and a bigger bed. But I thought you'd be more interested in the bookshelf part."

Castiel looked down at their locked hands, smiling sadly. He nodded. "I am. Thank you," he replied, voice weak with sickness. Dean squeezed Castiel's hand in response.

Right when Dean had opened his mouth to talk, again, Castiel interrupted him.

"I need you to get something for me," he spoke up. Once he had garnered Dean's attention, Castiel continued. "A book. It's under my mattress," his voice grew scratchy as it caught halfway. He attempted to clear his throat, but only ended up coughing harshly, the action upsetting his lungs. Dean put a hand on Castiel's back, patting gently and then rubbing smoothly as Castiel came down from his coughs. "Sorry," he spoke, balled fist coming down from his mouth. Dean only gave him a glass of water. After drinking, Castiel finished speaking.

"When you get it can you bring it here? The next time you come? I- there's something in it I need to show you," Castiel breathed out.

Dean gave him a smile. "I'll have it here by tomorrow."

* * *

As soon as Raphael gave them permission, Dean, Mrs. Madison, and her husband all went to Raphael's house to retrieve Castiel's things. Mr. Madison brought his pickup truck, and Mrs. Madison brought multiple suitcases. Dean trailed behind them as they walked up to the door of the enormous brick house. He couldn't grasp the fact that it'd be the last time he'd see it. And that Castiel would never have to step foot in there, again.

He felt a sense of relief.

Raphael answered the door with his usual air of annoyance and superiority. He opened it wider at Mrs. Madison's silent glare, reciprocating his sister's with one of his own. Mr. Madison ushered Dean forward and told him to go up the stairs, going back and gently taking his wife by the elbow, murmuring something to the Novaks that Dean didn't bother to listen to.

He was the first one into Castiel's bedroom. Figuring the adults were all talking (or, rather, quietly arguing), he began pulling Castiel's clothes out of his closet, folding them and tossing them into one of the suitcases he had with him. By the time Mr. and Mrs. Madison had come up, he already had most of Castiel's clothes packed.

It only filled half their largest suitcase.

Mrs. Madison went into the bathroom to retrieve Castiel's things, and Mr. Madison began packing up all the books on Castiel's bookshelf. They all worked in silence for a while.

When Dean had finished packing all of Castiel's clothes, he had enough room for the two pairs of shoes left, and even some room for textbooks. Once he had stuffed the suitcase, he propped it by the door and then went ahead to Castiel's bed. Mrs. Madison joined him.

He didn't even realize what the dark stains against the navy blue of the sheets were until he got closer. When he found out he felt himself blanch and he took a surprised step back. Mrs. Madison put a reassuring hand on Dean's shoulder.

"We'll get him new sheets," she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned to Castiel's nightstand to gather whatever sat there. He noticed her pick up a long, silver necklace. She gazed sadly at it, but before Dean could comment on it, she slipped it into her coat pocket. Composing himself, Dean forced his legs to bring him back to the bed, and he looked down as he lifted the mattress, his hand searching until it bumped into the familiar texture of a book.

When he pulled it out and looked at the cover, he found it in himself to smile.

It was the book he had taken from Alastair. The one he had returned to Castiel so long ago.

Suddenly, he grew cold.

The note inside. Castiel wanted to show him the note.

Looking around him and seeing that Mr. and Mrs. Madison were occupied, Dean fit the small book in his jacket pocket. He then helped Castiel's aunt and uncle finish packing.

It was sad how, out of all the suitcases they brought, they hardly needed half of them. In only three large suitcases Castiel's entire room was packed. Most of his belongings were his books, too. Dean was sure, though, that after he started living with Mr. and Mrs. Madison his room would take tons of suitcases to pack.

And his books would take more.

* * *

After Dean dropped off Castiel's things in his new room (it was smaller than the one in his father's home, but it was cozier), he left, having to insist to Castiel's aunt and uncle that he was fine and didn't need to stay for dinner.

He had obligations at home waiting for him. Before they left the hospital, Bobby and John had told Dean to be home by nine. He suspected they wanted to talk about moving, again.

So, with distress weighing down his stomach, Dean drove home, dreading the conversation he knew was waiting for him and Sam.

When he pulled into his driveway, he lingered in his car for a while, just staring at the condo and feeling an air of homesickness. It didn't matter that he'd hardly lived there for a year- so much had happened in that amount of time, it was strange to think that he might have to leave it.

He wanted to stay.

Dean took Castiel's book out of his pocket, resisting the urge to open it as he placed it in the passenger seat. He took a deep breath before getting out of the car.

When he got inside he saw his family sitting at the dining table. There was mushroom spaghetti in four different plates, none touched. Sammy was pointedly avoiding Bobby and John's eyes, and he didn't even look up to welcome Dean.

He sat down next to his brother.

"What's up?" he asked, taking to copying Sammy and playing with his food.

It was silent for a moment. Then Bobby broke it.

"I want you boys to live with me."

Dean and Sam both looked up. Then they glanced at John, who looked worn and disgruntled, but met his sons' gazes.

"Dad?" Dean hesitated, observing his father carefully. "Did you know-"

"Yes," John replied. "We already spoke about it. I've decided to let you boys make a choice. You can either… stay with your uncle… or come with me."

Dean didn't know what to say. He was speechless- he felt like this was a dream.

"I'm staying," Sammy piped up, smiling widely at Bobby, who returned the gesture.

All eyes were on Dean, now. He didn't know what to say- he was so shocked.

"Dad, why don't you stay, too?" he asked, his voice already weak with defeat. He knew his father's answer, but it didn't make it any easier to handle.

John looked away. "I can't," he replied. "I have to leave by tomorrow morning. You're… you're welcome to come with me."

A sense of duty pulled at Dean, making him want to go along with his dad. Dean was always there for him- he was always the voice reassuring John when he'd done something wrong. He always followed his father. For longer than he could remember, Dean always wanted to be like John.

He didn't know if that was true, anymore. Now he had discovered himself- he found out his own hobbies, he made new friends. He was becoming his  _own person_. Dean couldn't give that up, not even for his father.

So he made his choice.

"I'm sorry… I'm staying here."

Dean would never forget the look of pure disappointment on his father's face.

It would always haunt him.

* * *

They bid John farewell the next morning. It was short and mostly wordless. They only helped him pack up his belongings, and then exchanged brief and procedural hugs. John promised to see them soon.

Dean didn't really believe that.

They spent the rest of the day putting their packed belongings into Bobby's pick up truck. Sam and Dean had just as little as Castiel. It was mostly to make their constant moving easier, but now Dean was going to a real home. Something he'd been dreaming about since his mother died and they made that first trip. Soon he'd have just as many things in his new room as Castiel would.

Bobby's house was small. Sam and Dean would be sharing a well-sized room, but, in all honesty, they really didn't mind. It wouldn't be the first time they shared a room. Bobby had offered to clear out the office and make it into a bedroom, but both Dean and Sam had brushed away the offer.

"Maybe once we're at each other's necks we can consider," Sam had joked, earning a consenting laugh from Dean. "For now, I think we're good, right?" Sam asked, looking up at his big brother.

Dean smiled. "Yeah, we're good."

They moved in all their things the majority of the morning, and for a good portion of the afternoon. Soon they had everything comfortably situated, and (after Dean had taken Bobby and Sam out for some dinner), he decided to go to the hospital and then stop by Cas's new house like he had planned with Mrs. Madison the day before.

When he got to the hospital he felt strangely anxious. Castiel's book weighed like a ton of lead in Dean's jacket pocket, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to know what that note said, anymore. Perhaps it would be for the good of them both if they didn't venture down that road?

No, Dean couldn't decide this. It was Castiel's choice, and Castiel's alone. Dean needed to accept what Castiel chose to tell him about his life, whether he wanted to or not. He would invest himself one hundred percent, or not at all. And Dean knew, now, that there was no pulling himself out of this relationship. He loved Castiel, and he planned to stay by him, through thick and thin, no matter what shitstorm life decided to throw at them, next.

He was more sure about that than anything else, these days.

* * *

When Dean got to Castiel's room, he was sleeping. Mrs. Madison was at his side, watching over him. Jo was with her, head resting on Castiel's bed. She was fast asleep, as well.

It was then that Dean noticed all the flowers and balloons and other trinkets. He smiled when he realized that their friends had obviously made their mark on Castiel's dull room. He was actually quite relieved that Castiel had this room to himself, because he was positive any ill person he had to share it with would be incredibly bothered by the amount of guests Castiel had been receiving in such a short amount of time.

Mrs. Madison caught Dean standing at the doorway, and she gave him a smile, which he returned sheepishly.

"Sorry," he began. "I tried to get here as soon as I could. So much has happened," he explained as he sat down on the edge of Castiel's bed, since the two chairs available were being used. Mrs. Madison only waved a hand, dismissively.

"He's been asleep most of the day. For the hour that he's been awake, his friends were here. Jo stayed after to get him to fall back asleep," Mrs. Madison revealed. She smiled once again before she continued, "He asked about you. More than once, actually. The medication they've been giving him has made him a little delirious."

Dean blushed but laughed good-naturedly. He gazed at Castiel, feeling his heart nearly sing when he realized how much better he already looked. Well, if better constituted as bruised and battered but breathing without wheezing nearly as much. And looking one extra shade up from death white.

"How is he?" Dean asked, although he was pretty sure the answer he'd get wouldn't be as different as yesterday's.

Mrs. Madison smiled. "Physically, he hasn't changed too much. But I feel as though the good mood he's been put into has healed him, somehow. He's much… brighter," she recalled. She seemed brighter, herself. "Seeing his friends really helped him get past his father," she said softly, now. Dean nodded in agreement- he could see the progress with his own eyes. "But seeing you will make his day complete," she added.

Dean tried to smile at that, but he felt like she was wrong. Whatever Castiel had in this book that he wanted to show Dean, it wouldn't result in a happy occasion.

"He'll wake up, soon," Mrs. Madison soothed, thinking Dean was fretting about that. In a way, it was sort of ironic, given that a part of Dean just hoped Castiel slept the day away so they both would not have to face this.

But Dean had made a promise to Castiel. He said he'd see him, today. And he'd pull through with this, despite his nagging fears.

"I know," Dean replied.

* * *

Mrs. Madison left an hour later, explaining to Dean that Jo would also be helping set up Castiel's room with them, that night. The rest of the group would be coming the next day to help finish it up, and plenty of them had their own touches they wanted to add to the room. Dean felt eager to see what they had planned, and he couldn't erase the picture of pure delight that would be on Castiel's face when he'd see the room.

Things were changing for the better. Finally, after  _everything_ , things were going the way they were supposed to. Castiel had a family. Dean had a family. They both had their friends and things could only go up, now.

Dean played with Castiel's fingers as he waited for him to wake up. Jo was still asleep, and Dean didn't quite have the heart to wake her. He figured she had gotten less sleep than him. She needed rest, especially when she looked so relaxed and at peace.

Dean didn't know how long Castiel had been awake, but he paused in his movements on Castiel's hand when the fingers suddenly gripped onto Dean. He looked up to see Castiel awake and smiling, and Dean couldn't help but smile back.

"Hi," he spoke up, leaning in so he was facing Castiel, now. Castiel squeezed Dean's hand, making a move to sit up. Dean helped him, and Castiel took some practiced breaths before he spoke.

"How long have you been waiting?" he asked, seeming sheepish.

Dean only smiled in response, feeling as though he couldn't stop. Hearing Castiel's voice was so important to him- he couldn't help but feel happy, even if it rattled wetly when he spoke louder than a whisper.

"Not too long," he lied, reaching up to brush Castiel's hair off his forehead, then tracing down the side of his face, cradling it gently. Castiel turned into Dean's palm, closing his eyes and kissing it gently. "How are you feeling?" Dean asked once Castiel faced him, again.

"Better," the dark-haired teen replied. "I'm glad you got here," he added.

Dean gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, a lot happened. I drove over as soon as I could."

Castiel gave him a questioning look, but Dean waved a hand, dismissing the topic. "I'll explain it later," he replied. "For now, though…" he pulled out Castiel's book from his pocket, placing it in the teen's good hand. "I brought you this," he whispered.

Castiel held the book, looking at it, sadly. "Thank you," he replied. Dean only nodded.

"It's… the note, right?" he asked, looking up at Castiel. The other teen didn't look back, he only nodded.

"Yes. I have some things to tell you about," he spoke, his voice weary. "There's a lot that needs explaining." He took a deep breath, clearing his throat and pausing for a moment. "My aunt said she told you about me. My psychotic depression, and… well, everything."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, she did. We… we didn't know if you were going to…" Dean cut himself off, looking away. He felt Castiel's eyes on him, now. "You were in the emergency room so long," was all he said.

Castiel didn't reply to that. He only took Dean's hand once again and rubbed a soothing thumb along the back of it. Dean took a deep breath, now. Castiel spoke, after a minute.

"It was really bad," Castiel whispered. "This time, I… it wasn't just voices. I saw things, too. I was so… so out of it. I… Jo told me I was at her house- that I called her Anna, and," Castiel coughed, shaking his head. "I thought I could hide that part of me from you guys. It had been so long since I had an episode. I thought that… that I had managed to tame it. Whenever I felt like I was losing control, that was when I'd start to shut myself away. Whenever I pulled away from you and the others, it was because I was afraid I was revealing too much… that you'd," he paused, breathing in slowly and swallowing hard, "that you'd find out."

Dean held Castiel's hand with both of his, paying attention to the way those blue eyes averted to the book on his lap. His cast-bound hand picked it up, flipping open the cover.

"The only person that's seen this note is me… and, well, I suppose Alastair and whoever he read it to before you took it," Castiel added, smiling sadly. "You were telling the truth when you said you didn't hear him read the note, right?"

Dean nodded, now. "Yes, I was. 'Took a lot of effort not to read it before I brought it to you, though," Dean admitted sheepishly.

Castiel smiled, moving it over to Dean's line of view. "I should have shown it to you long ago, anyways," he replied. "I don't know why I thought I could hide this part of my life from you… you should have known. I'm sorry."

Dean only shook his head, squeezing Castiel's hand. "All that matters is you're letting me see it, now. We're gonna move up from here, Cas. Not down."

At those words, Castiel's eyes brightened. Then he looked away, and Dean looked down at the book, taking in the words for the first time.

The first thing he noticed were red-brown blotches on the inside cover. He ignored those, feeling as though he wouldn't be able to get himself to read on unless he did.

This is what he read:

_Mom,_

_It's been seven years. Seven years since you've been gone. Seven years since I've killed you._

_Dad hasn't talked to me, since. Nobody talks to me at school. Everyone hates me. Everyone blames me. Everyone's gone._

_Alastair goes to my school. His older brother is the one that crashed into you. It's my fault his brother is dead. I know he'll never forgive me, but I just wish I didn't have to face him every day. It's_ hell _. It's torture. I took away his family from him. I've ruined his life, just like I've ruined our family's life._

_It's all my fault._

_Anael and Gabriel left a while ago. They stayed with Hesther, before. But they're in college, now. I never see them. I'm not exactly sure where they are, I think New York, but I do know that they're somewhere safe. Somewhere away from Dad._

_I didn't just take you away from this family. I took him, too. He's gone. I don't think I can ever bring him back. Every year gets worse, and he won't stop drinking. He won't forgive me._

_I know I don't deserve forgiveness. What I did, it's unforgivable- it's_ terrible _. But I've been trying so hard to make it up to him. To everyone._

 _I took you away from the world. You didn't deserve that…_ God _, you didn't deserve what happened._

 _It's all my fault. It's_ all my fault _._

_Why am I alive? Why am I alive when you're dead?_

_I've been asking myself that so much, these days. It feels wrong. The world feels out of balance. I shouldn't be here. I_ know  _I shouldn't be here._

_I'm hearing things. At first, I thought it was just my thoughts. But with thoughts… you can push those away, if you need to._

_I can't push these away._

_They scream, sometimes. I told Dad about it, but he said it's the devil telling me to do bad things. He said that I'm turning into a demon. He said I'm going to Hell._

_I think I believe him. But I don't want it to be true, because you are in heaven. And I need to see you, again._

_I haven't visited you since you were buried. I'm so sorry. I know I should, but I can't bring myself to see your gravestone. I can't… it's too hard to accept what I've done. I don't want to see you_ dead _._

_I want to see you alive._

_I have some painkillers with me, and I've kept them in my room for a while. I keep trying to do it, I've been trying every night for a week but I always panic and change my mind. But… I think I'm ready, now. I'm ready to die. There's nothing to live for. I just want to see you. I'm so tired… so tired of crying… so tired of living when there's nothing here for me. I just want to see you and tell you how sorry I am._

_It's all I want._

_I'll see you, soon. I'm sorry. I love you._

Dean didn't realize he was crying until Castiel removed his hand from Dean's tight grip, reaching up to wipe his tears. Dean turned away from the note, shaking his head.

"I'm so sorry," he managed to speak. "I had no idea what you- I wish I could've-"

"You brought so much to my life, Dean," Castiel soothed, grabbing Dean's face in both his hands, now, and lifting it up to look at him. Blue eyes gazed intensely at him, although they were worn with sickness and an intense need for sleep. "I love you," he whispered. "For so long I forgot what it was to love- to  _be loved_ , even. You brought that back into my life. You helped me  _see_ … I can never express what you did for me."

Dean rested his forehead against Castiel's, his hands flying up to grip onto Castiel's arms. His eyes were still full of tears, and his voice was thick when he spoke. "I'm never letting you go through this again, Cas. I didn't keep my promises, before. I know that. But we're moving on from here. I'm going to change. We're both going to change. I swear to you, we will try. Everything will be okay… everything's going to be okay."

And everything would be.

* * *

The next two weeks of Castiel's hospitalization were more or less the same. With every day that went by, Castiel would get better and better. He began breathing well, his lungs were repairing themselves, and (miraculously) the only thing he suffered as a result of his near drowning was his intense case of pneumonia.

Anael and Gabriel announced they were going to stay the entire summer. They visited Castiel every day with their aunt, and they worked to rebuild what they once had with their brother.

Castiel's room was completely finished a week after everyone started on it. Dean more or less kept it a secret from Castiel, only letting a few things slip through. He couldn't help it, especially when Castiel looked so excited to know more.

Castiel's emotions were a roller coaster during his stay at the hospital. That much was understandable, but it still hurt when he wouldn't let any guests see him, not even Dean. He was recovering from the abandonment of his father, and it was taking a harsh toll on him. Apparently, he was being closely monitored by nurses and his doctor at all times.

Every first day after his few breakdowns, Dean would always be there to say whatever Castiel needed to hear. Sometimes, that would be nothing at all. Sometimes Dean would just hold the teen until he had finished crying, or fallen asleep. It was emotionally tolling, but they both knew their recovery wouldn't be anything close to easy.

Towards the end of Castiel's stay, he gave Dean something.

"I want you to keep the book. Keep it safe for me," he had spoken. It was the day after he had found out he'd be in a mental institute for two months, the moment after he recovered from his pneumonia. They were both lying silently on Castiel's tiny hospital bed, Dean spending most of the time drawing soothing patterns on Castiel's arm in order to calm him down. He had looked up at him, at that, and then hesitantly over at the book nestled among Castiel's flowers (all the other trinkets had been taken to his new room at home, the flowers left in order to brighten up the hospital).

He looked into Castiel's blue eyes. "Are you sure?"

Castiel nodded. "I don't want it. I… can't have it… not anymore. Just… don't let anybody read it. I know everyone knows, now, but-"

"I won't," Dean promised, placing a kiss on Castiel's cheek. "I'll keep it for you."

Castiel rested his head on top of Dean's. They didn't speak the rest of that visit.

Mrs. Madison met with Castiel's old psychiatrist. They had spoken of Castiel's condition, and planned for him to stay in an institution over an hour away from his house. The visits would be minimal, and only include Mr. and Mrs. Madison. He was to be kept under close surveillance, seeing as it was his second suicide attempt.

Dean didn't like the idea of not being there for Castiel all summer. But they both agreed this was just something that needed to be done, and that they would get through it, together.

It was hard to remember to stay strong when they pulled up to the mental institution, though.

It looked nothing like what Dean expected. It was sort of like an old school. There was a garden out front, and the building exterior was a bright and lovely brick, the architecture of an old Victorian building. There were teenagers outside, some playing soccer while others were off on a clear patch of grass, sitting in a circle with an adult and talking. Even though it all looked harmless enough, Dean couldn't let go of Castiel's hand in the backseat of his aunt and uncle's car. He had a feeling Castiel couldn't let go, either.

Castiel hadn't even been able to see his room. They had packed some things for him, although he wasn't allowed to bring much. It seemed as though everything could harm him- he couldn't even wear shoes with shoelaces, or clothes with zippers or drawstrings, so Mrs. Madison had bought him some slip-on shoes and elastic pants, and a few t-shirts. His jacket had the string removed, and was zipperless. If his clothes didn't pass their inspection, he would be provided with whatever the institution had for him.

Mrs. Madison, however, had gone to extensive lengths to make sure Castiel's stay would be comfortable and healing. Castiel had been gratified and even embarrassed with the amount of attention he received from her. Dean supposed he wasn't used to it.

"You okay?" Dean asked as they pulled into the parking lot. Castiel nodded.

"I will be," he replied, turning to smile at Dean, although it didn't reach his eyes. "It'll be alright."

Dean only nodded back, although his heart told him the opposite.

They walked in side by side, not once letting go of each other's hands. Mrs. Madison checked Castiel in at the front- a cozy entrance with brown furniture, beige walls, and red-brown carpets over hardwood. It looked like a casual doctor's office. It didn't look like a teenaged mental institution.

Dean was sorta thankful for that.

He noticed Castiel was breathing heavily. His hands were clammy and his fingers gripped onto Dean's hand so tightly he began to lose circulation within his own.

"It's okay," Dean whispered, looking down at Castiel, gaining his attention. Castiel looked up at him, eyes wide, and shook his head.

"I changed my mind. I- I can't do this. I-"

"Castiel? Sweetie, you're all checked in. You can follow Ms. Laney, here," Mrs. Madison interrupted, turning to face her nephew. She paused at the look on his face, then turned to the lady waiting for Castiel to follow. "Just- we need one moment," she apologized.

Dean could see tears fill Castiel's eyes, so he pulled him in for a hug, squeezing him tight. "It'll be okay. It'll pass by  _so_  fast, I promise. I'll write to you, okay? I'm going send in letters with your aunt and she'll give them to you when she sees you. Jo, Ash, Charlie, everyone and I will write to you."

Castiel nodded into Dean's neck. "Okay. Okay, okay," he repeated, hand curling into his t-shirt while his cast-bound one laid flat on Dean's back.`

"It'll go by so fast," Dean repeated. "We'll see each other, soon. You can do this."

Castiel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I don't want to leave. I want to stay with you," he murmured into Dean's neck, his breath hot and tears staining Dean's shirt, now. "I'm going to miss you so much.

At that, Dean pulled away slightly, and gave Castiel a long, hard kiss, his hands flying up to cradle his face, his fingers digging into Castiel's hair. When they pulled away from each other, Dean let their noses touch.

"I love you. You're so strong, Cas, and I love you and  _you can do this._  I know you can do this," he rambled, wiping away Castiel's tears with his thumbs.

Castiel nodded, again, kissing Dean once more. "Okay. Okay. I love you, too. I'll see you soon," he promised, hugging Dean, once more.

"Very soon."

Dean didn't remember how many times Castiel turned back to look at him as he walked away. All he could think about was the space being put between them with every step.

And how many steps closer they were to being together, once again.


	45. The End (Warmth) Part 1

After Dean was well out of his sight, Castiel forced himself to look forward and try to observe his surroundings. He wouldn't make this like last time- he wouldn't push away the help he was receiving. This was a new institution- a new start for him. He'd have to prove that he was ready to get better and maybe, just  _maybe,_ they'd let him see Dean and his friends during his stay.

He knew there was still a ways to go before he'd be released. But he was ready to get through it. He was ready to finally make a change in his life.

He had so much to live for, now. He felt as though he had a purpose. When he would leave this hospital, he would not be awaiting his father's wrath. Instead, he'd be awaiting a new and loving family. He'd be back with Dean. He'd be with his friends.

It was worth it. Being away for a summer was more than worth it.

Ms. Laney and Castiel climbed up two flights of stairs. She was explaining to him how this building used to be a boarding school, but was bought off by two psychiatrists who worked to make it a safe place for kids with mental illness to try and recover. Castiel was too busy observing the place to pay much attention.

They walked down a corridor filled with rooms. Castiel could hear some talking and laughter, and he felt as though he were having a tour of college dorms rather than a psychiatric hospital. It was settling, in a way. The nervous coil in Castiel's stomach began to unwind, if only slightly.

Finally, Ms. Laney led him to a room on the West wing of the building's dormitories. All doors were open, and the nurse eased one in particular further open.

"Michael, come introduce yourself," Ms. Laney called over. Castiel peeked into the room to the sight of a boy lying down on one of the two beds, his to the right of the room and further from the door. A ratty old book was in his hands, and he seemed to almost force it down on a nightstand beside him. He swung his feet over to the edge of the bed, thus sitting himself upright as he did so.

"Hi," he spoke in a smooth drawal, giving a sarcastic smile. Castiel didn't return it.

"Michael is going to be your roommate. He'll show you around," Ms. Laney spoke to Castiel, her voice kind. "Isn't that right?" she directed at the other boy, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, sure," Michael replied, feigning a smile at the nurse. Castiel faintly heard him murmur "not like I got anything better to do", but the nurse didn't seem to notice. If she did, she brushed it away.

"Michael knows the rules but I'm still going to explain the extent of them to you, Castiel," the nurse spoke up, voice serious, now. "Although you two will be sharing a room, I expect you both to be conscious of one another's private space- both physically and mentally. Do not touch one another, or speak about anything personal to one another. Michael is only going to be explaining the daily routine to you, and showing you around the building. You will be shown where you can, and cannot go, at certain times during the day. I want both you boys to be on your best behavior," she added, eyeing Michael, who was now standing a couple feet away from Castiel, observing him. He rolled his eyes at the comment, but Ms. Laney didn't see, for she had turned to look at Castiel, once more. "Lunch will be in an hour, so get going," she ordered before giving Castiel a routine smile and walking out.

Castiel shuffled awkwardly in the room, glancing about it. It was fairly neat, though he supposed that they weren't allowed enough things for it to get too messy. The only clutter was a stack of three books by Michael's bedside, and a couple of his personal belongings. It seemed as though the other boy had been there for a while. Castiel wondered if the nurses would let him have some books, as well… he mused over what books he'd choose to have his aunt bring while he walked to his bed, stripping off his jacket and folding it neatly onto his sheets, placing it by his pillow.

His thoughts were interrupted by his new roommate.

"What're you in for?" he asked, sounding so theatrical that Castiel almost thought he had somehow managed to land himself into a prison rather than a teenage mental facility.

Castiel turned around to squint cautiously at the teen. "We're not allowed to discuss that," he murmured, hesitantly. Michael was back to sitting on his own bed, leaned forward and propping his arms on his knees. He was watching Castiel, and smirked at his remark.

"Nobody follows that rule," he simply stated.

Castiel only closed his mouth, and looked away, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. Michael spoke, again.

"Listen, I dunno how long you're in here for, but I'm guessin' by the cast and scars that it's gonna be at least a month. I would say a few weeks, but this is a long term hospital and nobody's stay is that short," he deduced, earning a glare from Castiel. He cooly smiled once more, amused with Castiel's reaction. "It'll get boring not talkin' to anyone," he proceeded, unphased by Castiel's total silence. "You're gonna have to talk to me sooner or later," he explained, as if he were certain of the fact.

Castiel only looked away, once again, drawing his lips into a stubborn line. Michael didn't say anything at that. He ended up changing the subject.

"Lemme show you around," he offered, seeming to make amends. Castiel looked up at that, and only nodded.

They walked out the room and through the corridor, going down the stairs. There was a notable amount of staff about in the halls, allowing for constant monitoring. Their rooms were on the third (and top) floor, Michael explained. They were on the West wing, and the girls' dormitories were on the East wing. Michael spoke of the challenges of trying to sneak over to the girls' side of the institution, and the punishments that would follow if one tried. Castiel hardly pretended to be interested. He didn't speak a word- didn't change his expression.

After Michael had shown Castiel the bathrooms and explained the rules that accompany them, he grew silent. He had said something about showing Castiel the therapy and schooling rooms on the second floor. They were walking down their second flight of stairs when he spoke up, again.

"Panic disorder and residual schizophrenia," he had chimed in, as if he were contemplating the weather.

Castiel's head snapped towards the teen, and he gazed hard at him. "What?" he asked, feeling as though a sense of dread had begun to blossom in his chest.

Michael glanced at him before resuming walking, looking ahead. "What I was diagnosed with," he explained, "also, ah, three attempted suicides."

Castiel only gazed on, waiting for an explanation. But Michael didn't elaborate, and Castiel didn't push him to.

And they went on with the tour.

* * *

The day was uneventful. Castiel met with a therapist throughout most of it. He complied and cooperated with whatever he was told to do. He even took medication before room time at eight o'clock.

Michael hadn't spoken to him since the brief tour he had given him. It was partially because they both were separated, taken to different activities.

It was also because Castiel didn't feel much like talking to him.

Michael's sudden and unorthodox revelation was strange to Castiel. Hardly anybody ever opened up to him that fast, and with so little care. He had to admit he was a little thrown off.

Then again, he  _was_  in a long-stay mental institution. Obviously, every kid here had something wrong with them. Perhaps sharing that small element of their lives was not such a big deal, seeing as they probably talked about it every day.

It still didn't feel right.

Falling asleep was hard that night. Castiel laid in bed, listening to the nurses make their rounds, peeking into the rooms and taking count. Castiel feigned sleep every hour the nurse checked their room.

It was late, Castiel knew that. He had lost count of how many rounds the nurse had made. And, although he should be sleepy-  _exhausted_ , even- he couldn't bring sleep to him. Although his lingering illness (both mentally and physically) literally drew his muscles and entire being to the thought of sleep, Castiel couldn't get his mind to  _stop screaming_.

Sighing, Castiel turned on his side, his back to Michael, who he presumed was either sleeping or pretending to, given his silence. Castiel closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to lull himself to dreams with thoughts of green eyes and a freckled, smiling face. His hand drifted to his cheek, tracing along it and trying to convince himself that it was Dean- that he was safe in Dean's bed, trying to get some sleep before work- that it was Dean's warm arms wrapped around him instead of his own.

It didn't work, of course. In fact, it only made him feel all the more lonely.

He wanted to see Dean. He wanted to be enclosed in his embrace- the only place he truly knew he'd be safe.

He didn't sleep that night.

* * *

The next day, Castiel hardly saw Michael. He went through a few group sessions, a water coloring art therapy class, and an outdoor session. The whole time he was being watched and guided by the same nurse- a blond lady who didn't speak too much.

It was almost a relief when Castiel got back to his room that night. He hadn't eaten much, losing his appetite when he saw a yelling girl being taken out of the cafeteria for not eating her meal. From what he heard in the murmurs around him, she had an eating disorder, and was being taken into a room to be force fed. The display in the cafeteria was practically a norm for her.

He had thrown away his food and left promptly after that. He never really regained his appetite, only eating bites when he felt as though he were being monitored.

Inevitably, he had taken more pills than food that day. He was drowsy from his lack of sleep the night before. When he got back to his room at eight o'clock, Michael was already there and asleep. Castiel felt a pang of disappointment- he was feeling particularly lonely, despite having done nothing but socializing, that day. He was starting to think that maybe Michael was right about needing to talk to somebody.

Bone dead and too exhausted to dwell on the matter, Castiel tossed his shoes off and collapsed onto the bed.

Yet, when he laid down under the sheets, he still couldn't sleep.

This wasn't good. He needed to recover. He couldn't go doing all the bad things that he used to do to himself.

That was it. He'd  _make_  himself sleep.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel closed his eyes. He thought of quiet forests, car rides through empty roads, and a warm figure curled beside him. He even counted sheep.

It didn't work.

The nurse had made two rounds. It was ten o'clock.

Castiel stared at the ceiling.

His medicine was making him drowsy, yet he couldn't shut down his mind. It was driving him  _insane_.

The noise of the West wing died down as the curfew was installed. All action ceased. The nurse made another round.

It was eleven.

Balling his hands into fists, Castiel pressed them against his dry eyes until he saw color. He resisted the urge to cry.

That was when he heard it.

A soft, whimpering,  _"No_."

Opening his eyes (which were now bleary), Castiel grabbed his glasses from his nightstand, putting them on and looking over at Michael.

"Don't," the boy uttered in his sleep. He murmured something after that, something that sounded like "get away".

"Michael?" he asked, hesitantly. The boy didn't respond.

Castiel felt his heart race, and glanced over at their open door. The nurse had just made her last round a few minutes ago. She wouldn't be back for another hour.

Was he allowed to get up and call for her? Did he need to?

Or was this a normal thing for Michael?

" _No- dont!_ " the boy gasped, now, head turning to the side, eyes shut tight and skin shining with sweat illuminated by the moon glowing through their window.

It was probably just a nightmare. Just like the ones Castiel had.

Swallowing down his fear, Castiel threw his sheets back and tossed his feet over the side of his bed. He had nothing to be afraid of- they wouldn't put him in a room with Michael if he were dangerous.

He was just having a nightmare. He just needed to wake up.

Walking over to the other side of their room, Castiel crouched by the bed, taking Michael's arm and shaking him gently.

"Michael," he spoke, again.

"No, no- go away," Michael gasped, his eyebrows knitted together, eyes moving rapidly beneath their lids. He was breathing heavily, fear evident in his voice.

Castiel placed a hand on Michael's shoulder, but before he could do anything else the boy woke up, sitting up fast in his bed and shocking Castiel, whose hands retreated to his sides.

He looked at Castiel without recognition, gray eyes landing on his face but not  _seeing him_.

Those eyes were terrified.

"Don't," he uttered, backing away from Castiel, "don't touch me!"

"Michael," Castiel spoke gently. He was worried someone might hear him- might take him away. He reached out a hand to calm him, "it's me, it's-"

But at Castiel's movement, Michael gasped and pushed him-  _hard_.

" _Get away from me!_ " he shouted, voice reverberating through the room.

Castiel's head smacked against something firm, his elbow landing on the floor with enough force to split the skin open. Ringing filled his ears, and everything went dark. Voices were muffled around him, and there was a lot of action, now. He could hear the rustling of feet- feel hands gripping onto his arms and easing him gently up. Castiel's eyes fluttered open, and he gasped in a breath, blurry eyes looking around him.

His glasses were on the floor, and didn't look to be in very good shape judging by what his fuzzy vision could show him. He grabbed them before letting whoever was pulling on him help him up onto his feet.

Michael was struggling on his bed, yelling. Two people were holding him down. Before Castiel could see anything else, he was dragged out of the room and into the hallway, which was now lit with lights from the other boys' rooms. Heads poked out curiously taking in the spectacle of Castiel being nearly dragged away, disoriented and battered, to a medical room.

He was sat down on the exam table in a doctor's office, and a nurse told him to stay there for a moment. Merely nodding, Castiel sat- trying to gather everything that had happened.

His glasses were broken at the right hinge, and it hung loosely, about to fall completely off. Sighing, Castiel took to examining them, squinting as he tried to find a way to fix it. He'd probably need to get new ones, now.

What had happened with Michael? Why didn't he recognize him?

Who did he think he was seeing?

Somebody walked into the room, clipboard in hand before she placed it on a counter and glanced at Castiel. "Mr. Novak?" she asked. Castiel nodded. "I'm the doctor here, I'm just going to take a quick look at you and make sure everything is alright."

"Is Michael okay?" Castiel asked as the doctor sifted through her things. Instead of replying, she walked over to Castiel as if he hadn't said a word.

"Open your eyes and look straight ahead for me," she instructed. Castiel did so, resisting the urge to flinch when the light passed over his eyes. The doctor seemed momentarily pleased, though,

"Good, good," she murmured, going over to write something down and put on some gloves.

"What's going to happen to Michael?" Castiel asked, more persistent, this time. The doctor turned to look at him.

"I am not allowed to discuss my other patients," she replied coolly. Castiel wrinkled his nose in annoyance, looking away.

"I need you to show me where any pain you have is," she instructed. Castiel ignored her.

"What happened to Michael was my fault. I tried to calm him down, but I knew I shouldn't have touched him- he was defending himself, it was my fault. I just- I didn't want him to get in trouble."

The doctor looked sympathetic, then. "He'll be fine. He's getting the care he needs. Now, show me where your pain is."

With an air of reluctance, Castiel did so. The nurse patched up his elbow, checked on his healing wrist, and had him ice a bump on the back of his head. Afterwards, she gave him tape for his glasses, a note for pain medication for his headache, and then sent him on his way.

After retrieving his medicine, Castiel walked back to his room.

He didn't know why he hoped to see Michael still there. Obviously, he wouldn't be. His bed was empty, sheets messy. The chair Castiel had crashed into was propped up, now, and back in its spot.

Feeling a wave of guilt, Castiel walked to his bed and crawled into it.

Perhaps it was the medication, or all the events of the night, but Castiel fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

He was greeted with nightmares.

* * *

When Castiel woke up the next morning, Michael was still nowhere to be seen. He chose to skip breakfast, and instead slept more in his bed, not feeling up to facing the day.

He slept until noon before he was woken up and forced to go to a therapy session. He went through with it, reminding himself that the more he complied, the sooner he'd be able to go home and see his family and friends.

And be able to put everyone and everything here behind him.

So Castiel pulled himself through it. He got through the first week, and on Sunday his aunt and uncle visited him. They brought an envelope from Dean and gave it to Castiel (after getting an a-okay from the hospital, who had to open it and check its contents before giving it to Castiel). He stuffed it in the pocket of his hoodie and then took a walk with his aunt and uncle around the building. It was warm and lovely, and he needed to clear his head. Michael hadn't been back since that night, and it was making Castiel nervous and incredibly guilty.

Mrs. Madison distracted him with talk about his friends, though. They had all stopped by the house to paint his new room's walls. Apparently, it was an "interesting" end result, but one that Castiel was sure to love. He didn't doubt that. In fact, he was incredibly excited to see his new room. He knew it would be a sight to behold- his friends were all so different, having them work together on one thing could only bring about a chaotic yet intriguing result.

When his aunt and uncle had to leave, Castiel was disappointed. But he had an appointment with his group session, and he knew he couldn't miss it. So he gave his family a hug, and set off back inside the building.

At the end of the day, when Castiel returned to his room, he was surprised to see Michael reclining on the bed, reading a book.

He paused in the doorway, but the other teen didn't give him any recognition. So, gathering himself, Castiel walked to his bed.

They didn't speak until it was time for them to go to dinner. They walked there side by side in silence. Castiel continuously glanced at Michael, but the other boy never met his gaze.

Plenty of people stared. Michael gave none of them a reaction, so Castiel glared at them for him. That stopped most of the stares. Castiel didn't know why he felt the need to be protective over someone he hardly knew- and hardly even  _liked_ , for that matter. It was just something inside him- something that felt protective over his strange roommate.

Perhaps it was because Michael reminded him of himself?

He heard the sound of an amused snort, and looked over at his roommate. Michael was smiling, and when he looked over at Castiel, he only laughed once more.

"You could kill people with that look," he pointed out, making Castiel blush at being caught. He looked away. It was silent for a moment. Then Michael spoke, again. "Thanks," he added, sounding truly genuine.

Castiel shrugged. They continued on to the cafeteria.

When they had sat down and gone through half their meal, Michael spoke up, again.

"They put me in a solitary room," Michael explained as he ate through his meal disinterestedly.

Castiel looked up, flattening his lips into a line at the confession. Guilt wormed its way into his heart, and he looked down at his meal before saying, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Michael replied. Castiel shook his head.

"Yes it is. I shouldn't have-"

"It's not your fault," Michael repeated, same tone to his voice. Castiel looked up. Michael kept eating.

They finished in silence.

* * *

It was around four in the morning when Castiel heard the crying.

It was a contained sort of sobbing- one of someone who didn't want to be heard, and was using all their power to make sure they weren't. But Castiel heard it- their room wasn't too big, and he wasn't sleeping too well.

Carefully and slowly, Castiel sat up in his bed and reached for his taped up glasses. He turned to look at Michael, but the other boy didn't notice him, for he was sitting up with his head between his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs. His body was shaking with controlled crying.

"Michael?" Castiel called out after minutes of just staring. The boy froze, body averting slightly from Castiel. He didn't move, other than that.

Drawing his lips into a line, Castiel checked the door then got up, bringing a chair over to Michael's bedside and squatting in it.

"I'm fine," came Michael's voice, muffled by the fabric of his clothes and the raise of his knees.

"Okay," Castiel replied. He didn't move, though. Michael lifted up his head and wiped an arm across his nose. His eyes were red and his cheeks were flushed. His hands were shaky. Castiel stared, and Michael looked over at the wall his bed was tucked against.

It was silent for what seemed like a few long minutes.

Then Michael spoke.

"Keep dreaming about him," he uttered, shaking his head before containing a shiver. "That night, I thought you were," he glanced at Castiel, quick, then looked down, forming his mouth into a line. He paused for a while. "My parents died when I was five. I moved in with my uncle. The bastard would put his hands all over me for years and I'd tell him to stop but he'd keep…" he shivered, recoiling into himself for a moment, "my aunt would just  _let him_. She'd stand back and let him do that to a  _kid_. 'N there was nothin' I could do because I was a fucking orphan so I just let him and now I can't get it out of my head. I get the nightmares every night and I thought you were," he glanced at Castiel, again, sizing him up. They held their gaze for a moment before Michael swallowed, sniffing and running an arm across his nose once more. "I thought you were him, that night," he smiled bitterly, his lips quivering. "I can't fucking stop the nightmares."

Castiel looked down, and they stayed in silence. In all honesty, he believed that was sort of what Michael needed, right now- for Castiel to shut up so he could rant without any rebuttal. It was silent for a long time before Castiel finally chose to speak.

"Anxiety and psychotic depression," he murmured, his voice hardly there. He wasn't used to talking much, besides to his therapist and in group sessions. It felt strange to hear his own voice in the barren dark of the room.

Michael looked up, his eyes shocked before they focused in on Castiel, taking in what he was telling him. There was a moment of digestion, but then Castiel saw the familiar spark in the gray eyes that he'd already gotten used to.

After that night, there was a lot less silence.

* * *

It had been a month, and Castiel was improving. He had been attending all his therapy sessions, opening up in group sessions, eating well, and complying with whatever he was told to do. He grew closer to Michael, and it felt strangely nice to have a friend during his stay. Realization struck, and Castiel finally came to the conclusion that he couldn't recover on his own. Not this time.

So he let his aunt and uncle in. He let his therapist in. He let his friends in and replied to their letters, telling them everything- from his doubts to his accomplishments... and his hopes.

In June, his therapist recommended he take a weekend off to be with his family and friends. He had been stable for a good amount of time, and she wanted to see how he'd do around those familiar to him.

Castiel was ecstatic. He called his aunt and uncle that day, and told them the news, although his therapist had already informed them.

They were so proud- it was evident in their voices. Castiel wasn't used to having somebody proud of him, and it filled him with warmth. He smiled with quivering lips and rubbed a hand across his teary eyes.

"I- should I tell the others? Dean and-"

"Well, your uncle and I were thinking," Mrs. Madison inquired, hesitance lacing her tone, "perhaps you could stay with Dean for the weekend? He could take you to his house, and then we could take you two out for dinner?"

Castiel contemplated it. His stomach whirled with excitement at the idea, but nervousness edged itself into his heart. See Dean? So soon? Would it really be okay?

He opened his mouth to speak, but paused. He didn't know what to say.

"Castiel?" his aunt spoke, concerned. "Sweetie, you don't have to if you don't want to. We just thought you'd like-"

"No, it's fine- it's a good idea. I'm just… it's a lot to take in. So much is happening, and…" he took a deep breath, looking around. A person was standing a couple feet behind him, waiting to use the phone. "I feel like I haven't seen him in years."

Mrs. Madison hummed in recognition. "He misses you so much. He's here every week, fixing up your room or just visiting us… asking about you. Him and Sam, they visit a lot."

Castiel smiled, propping a hand against the wall beside the phone and leaning forward. "Alright. Yes, we'll do it."

He could practically hear Mrs. Madison smiling. "I'm so glad- he's going to be so happy to hear that."

They ended their conversation shortly after, and Castiel was left to sink into a feeling of dread.

* * *

When Friday came, Castiel had an episode. It happened during his therapy session. When his therapist went through a check up on him, just to make sure he was fine to leave, he went through a panic attack. It resulted in his weekend off being taken away, and instead replaced with more sessions and close monitoring.

He could hardly face his aunt and uncle when they visited that Sunday. When he finally got himself to, they were not disappointed like he thought they'd be. Instead, they gathered him in their arms and took a long walk outside with him. There, he explained what happened in detail- how he hadn't been sleeping that week, too nervous and doubtful of his recovery. He was feeling better, now, but he knew that he would not be offered the weekend off again until he proved stable for another two weeks. Maybe more.

It felt awful. All his hard work had been wasted, and now he couldn't see Dean. He felt guilty for the slight relief he felt, especially when he tried to imagine Dean's reaction. He just knew that Dean would have planned the whole weekend for them- gotten things set up for Castiel to visit.... His aunt and uncle didn't supply him with imagery to dwell on. They chose not to touch upon the topic of Dean, for Castiel's own mental sake.

There was a short letter that weekend. It hardly filled a page, and said the following:

_Cas,_

_I don't want you to blame yourself for what happened. You're trying your best, and I know that. Don't think of anybody but yourself. Please don't push yourself to do things for other people's sake. Take in what you can, and take all the time you need._ You  _are what matters, right now. Nothing else. Just focus on getting better, and get yourself through this. You're so_ strong _, I know you can do it._

_I'm not mad. Don't tell yourself I am. I love you so much, and I understand._

_I'm here for you. We all are._

_I'll see you soon,_

_-Dean_

He read that letter every day, and slept every night with the intention to answer it in person.

* * *

The next few weeks were difficult, but Castiel managed. He pushed through, continued with his sessions, and called his aunt and uncle whenever he could. Most of all, he focused on himself, distancing other distractions and focusing on getting better. 

After three weeks, towards mid-July, Castiel was once again permitted a weekend off.

This time, he made it to Friday.

His therapist, Dr. Nicholson, smiled at him from her desk. Their session was over, and Castiel felt amazing- he felt  _new_. Like he had suddenly been filled with confidence that he hadn't felt in ages.

"Are you excited?" she asked, voice amused at Castiel's uncharacteristically bright attitude. He bit his lip before he nodded, containing his smile.

"I am," he replied. "Very much."

Dr. Nicholson leaned forward, hands folded as she gazed at her patient. "Enjoy your weekend, Castiel. You deserve it. Write down how it goes for me, and we'll look over it when you return."

Castiel let himself smile, now, as he got up. "Thank you. I will."

His body buzzed with excitement as he went to his room to retrieve his things. Michael was sitting in his bed, reading his book. It was the same one he always read,  _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_. He always joked that it bored him to the point of quieting the thoughts in his head. Castiel knew that the boy enjoyed the book, though. It was worn further more than his other books, and the way he held it spoke of endearment. Castiel, out of everyone, should know the feeling of a special book.

"You finally leaving?" Michael asked, making Castiel roll his eyes, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Yep. Try not to miss me too much," he replied, earning a snort.

"You kidding me? It'll be a party without you, Novak."

Castiel smiled, now, looking at Michael until the familiar gray eyes peeked at him from above the book. Those eyes rolled, now, and Castiel could tell Michael was retaining his own smile. "Get outta here, already," he commanded.

Castiel laughed, hauling on his backpack. "I'll see you Monday."

Right on cue, a nurse came to their door. She lead Castiel out and to the lobby of the building.

That's when he saw them.

His aunt and uncle, who appeared to be checking Castiel out, were accompanied by a blond-haired boy at the front desk who was looking around- as if searching for somebody. Castiel froze in his spot, feet suddenly planted to the ground. His heart raced inconceivably fast in his chest, riding up his throat in quick steps.

Then Dean spotted him. Green eyes widened and suddenly a dimpled smile stretched his face, brightening those features that Castiel dreamed of every night.

Castiel smiled back, then ran to Dean, feeling as though there were nothing else he could possibly do but throw himself into Dean's arms.

Dean ran to him, as well, and they collided rather ungracefully into one another, Dean wrapping his arms tight around Castiel and laughing, his warm breath meeting the skin of Castiel's neck, where he buried his face. Castiel's arms wound under Dean's arms, coming up to cradle his head and tangle his finger in the base of his downy-soft hair. Dean lifted him up, swinging him back and forth and driving laughs out of Castiel, who gripped on even tighter, inhaling Dean's scent from his face's place buried in the shoulder of the blond's t-shirt.

When they finally forced themselves to pull away Castiel only reached his hands up to cradle Dean's face, smiling brightly at him and drinking in his features- the feeling of his flushed skin beneath his palms. He gazed at the green eyes and light freckles and the lips and teeth that were stretched into a wide smile. Castiel let out another laugh, unable to believe that Dean was here, in his arms. All feeling of nervousness and doubt that Castiel had before washed away as he pushed Dean's hair back and hugged him, again. A warm hand pressed flat on Castiel's back, the other falling on his hip, bringing him close.

"I missed you," Dean spoke, voice sinking into Castiel's skin. He shivered, trying to contain his ridiculous smile as he hid his face in Dean's neck.

"I missed you, too," he replied.

When they parted a second time Dean smiled, reaching up a hand to smooth Castiel's hair off his forehead before taking his backpack and hoisting it onto his shoulders.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

Castiel glanced at his smiling aunt and uncle before looking back at Dean. He grinned.

"Yes."

* * *

The Impala smelled nostalgic- like pine, leather, and Dean. It warmed him as he settled into the passenger seat, trying to contain his excitement.

Dean climbed into the car after putting Castiel's backpack in the backseat, and he gave Castiel a smile as he started the car, reaching out a hand to him. Castiel smiled and wrapped both his arms around Dean's, taking his hand and resting against Dean's shoulder. A pair of lips gently kissed the top of Castiel's head, and he smiled into Dean's arm, burying his face in it when he felt it heat up.

"This is so weird," he voiced, making Dean laugh.

"I know. It feels like it's been ages."

Castiel hummed in recognition, rubbing his thumb along Dean's hand and placing a kiss on his shoulder, then up further to where the collar of his shirt exposed skin. He could feel Dean's muscles tense in his grasp, and he ran his free hand up and down his arm, smiling when goosebumps rose on the tan skin.

"Have you been working out?" Castiel asked, noting that Dean's arms had felt stronger and more toned. Dean snorted.

"Not really, just working full time at the garage. Just as demanding as a gym, I guess," he replied, glancing at Castiel and giving him a smile.

Castiel smiled, tracing his fingers down Dean's arm. "You got tan."

"Yeah, I've been to the pool a bunch with Sammy- there's one in the neighborhood," Dean hesitated, and drew his lips into a line. Then he took a deep breath. "Sam wanted me to, uh, get myself used to the water," he explained, making Castiel look away, lips frowning.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't apologize," Dean replied. "Don't."

It was silent for a moment. Then Castiel spoke up, again.

"I'd still like you to teach me to swim. I still want to learn. I want… I want things to be normal."

Dean leaned into Castiel, and his warmth enveloped him. "Of course. Anything."

They arrived home an hour later. This was Castiel's first time seeing Bobby's house, and he almost forgot that Dean wouldn't be living in the condo, anymore. In a way, he felt sad. It was where they shared their first kiss- their first intimate experiences. It was where they made up- where they first connected, when Dean bought him greasy fast food and gave him a place to recover.

It was strange that he'd never see it, again.

"You alright?" Dean asked, eyeing Castiel.

Castiel brought himself back to the present. He supposed change was best, for now.

Nodding, he gave Dean a smile. "I like the new place," he admitted. It was nice- a willow tree out front, with an old tire swing hanging from a frayed rope tied firmly to a thick branch. The house was two stories, but short, and a light blue. It was humble. It was welcoming. It was Dean.

The blond smiled. "Well, c'mon, Sammy's waitin' inside for us. He's excited to see you."

Castiel nodded, and they both climbed out the car, Dean taking Castiel's backpack once more, despite his protests.

A few seconds after they walked inside, Castiel was greeted with an enthusiastic, "Cas!" and a big hug from Sam Winchester, who almost tackled Castiel to the ground. Castiel laughed, returning the embrace.

"Hello, Sam," he replied, smiling big at him when the younger Winchester let go.

Sam smiled back. He was tanner than Dean, and he even seemed to have grown an inch. He was up to Castiel's mouth, now, rather than just below his head.

"You got taller," Castiel noted. Dean laughed.

"Yeah, at this rate he's gonna pass me in another month," he joked, earning a smile from his brother.

"Not much of a competition," the younger Winchester bantered, earning a light punch that he dodged with a laugh. "Come see our room," Sam spoke up to Cas, now, beckoning him forward. Castiel smiled back, and let Sam guide him and Dean up the short ascent of stairs. There were three rooms upstairs, and two bathrooms. One room was the size of an office, and had a small triangle window in the upper right corner. It was filled with boxes and an old desk. The room next to it was a bathroom, and the room at the very end of the hall was Bobby's room. The only room at the left was Sam and Dean's.

It was the largest bedroom, and the boys seemed to have already gotten comfortable in it. They painted the walls a dark teal blue, and filled it with pictures and posters. It was easy to tell whose side was whose- the left side had a bed that was bordered by music posters, and a nightstand sat beside it with a record player. Cas's record player. He smiled warmly at that.

Sam's side of the room was on the right, near the door. His bed and nightstand were filled with books, and a model airplane sat among them on his nightstand. His wall was filled with posters from movies he liked.

Both the Winchesters had a desk on either side of the room, since it was big enough to accompany such furniture. They even shared their own bathroom, separated by a door at the end of the room. There was a walk-in closet that was quite messy with clothes. It was a cozy room, and Castiel could see that the Winchesters made the most of the space they had. The sight made Castiel incredibly happy- there wasn't a brown cardboard box to be seen.

The Winchesters had a home.

"It's amazing," Castiel replied, an awed smile on his face.

"We spent all summer decorating it," Sammy explained, seeming proud of his portion of the room.

"You should've seen the painting process," Dean murmured, leaning in as he did so. Castiel snorted.

"We've got pictures," Sam retorted, catching on the conversation, anyways.

"God, no," Dean replied, walking over to his bed where he put Castiel's backpack, then sat, patting the space next to him. Castiel smiled before walking over, sitting down next to Dean.

"I'll show them to you," Sam spoke to Castiel before having a pillow thrown at him by Dean. He caught it, and threw it back at his brother.

"Share those pictures and you'll find dead things in your bed," Dean threatened. Sam laughed before leaving the room.

Castiel smiled quizzically at Dean. "What's so bad about the photos?"

Dean threw himself down on the bed, his shirt riding up his hips, and Castiel joined him, lying on his side. "Paint… everywhere. Jo and Sam pranked me, and splattered paint all over me. I was cleaning it off of my hair for weeks. Pink paint,  _just_..." Dean shuddered dramatically.

Castiel retained his laughter, resulting in a snort. "That's not very surprising. What is, is that you didn't see it coming," he admitted. "How's Jo?"

Dean smiled. "She's doing well. Been working just as much as me. She's been hanging out with Sam, though- her and Adam. Did I tell you Adam got a dog?"

Castiel smiled. "Yeah, he told me in the letters. Shelter dog?"

"Yeah, it's got three legs but the thing runs like it's in a never-ending marathon. He's cute, you'll meet 'im, soon."

Castiel hummed, gazing at Dean. "My aunt and uncle want us to go to dinner with them," he revealed. "I'm not sure where… or... when?"

"They texted me the info. It's an Italian restaurant nearby. We're supposed to be there by six."

"What time is it?" Castiel asked, truly not knowing. He didn't have a watch, or a cell phone.

Dean checked his phone. It was new- a nice android model. "Three forty-eight."

Castiel wound an arm over Dean's chest, dropping his head on his shoulder. "I'm tired," he spoke up. He had been so excited about seeing Dean that he hardly slept the night before. He supposed the blond did the same, because he yawned in response. Dean's hand went to his back, running fingernails gently up and down it.

"Sleep," he spoke, kissing Castiel's cheek.

He didn't remember the last time he slept so well.

* * *

When he woke up, he was alone on Dean's bed- a blanket draped over him. The room smelled like steam and soap, and it warmed him as he blinked sleepily. He heard rustling in the room, and sat up to find Dean emerging from the walk-in closet, a shirt in hand. He was topless, and his jeans hung low on his lips, leaving an expanse of skin that Castiel greedily took in.

"Enjoying the view?" Dean asked, voice amused.

Castiel smiled, not very embarrassed at being caught. Instead, he reached a hand out to Dean, motionlessly beckoning him over. The blond smiled back, and made his way over to Castiel, grabbing his outstretched hand and leaning down to kiss him. Castiel smiled against his lips, reaching a hand up to run through Dean's shower-wet hair, and pulling him close, parting his lips as he tried to ingrain Dean's taste into his memory. Dean pressed into him, instinctively opening his mouth against Castiel and reciprocating his hot, messy kisses. The feel of Dean was exciting and familiar, and Castiel let his hand tighten around Dean's fingers, his other dropping down to fall on Dean's shoulder and across his chest.

Castiel quickened their pace, going in tune to the heat blossoming in his belly and travelling in a blazing trail where it pooled in his groin. He acted on his wants, fingers skimming across warm skin. His thumb grazed lightly over Dean's nipple, and the blond gasped into Castiel's mouth before pressing their lips harder against one another, as if to stifle a moan.

"M-Cas," he began, parting their lips, "we can't- have to be at dinner," he explained. His eyes were lidded and hazy, and Castiel wanted nothing more than to just pull him down onto the bed right at that moment and take him.

Instead, he nodded, giving Dean a solid kiss. "Okay," he replied, smiling, "sorry."

Dean laughed, seeming bashful. "Don't be."

He straightened up and slid on his shirt. Castiel repressed the urge to pout, and instead spoke, again.

"What time is it?" he asked, feeling a bit dazed.

"Five ten- it's a thirty minute drive, so we gotta leave in a bit."

The only thing Castiel thought was that they had at least ten more minutes to make out, but he forced himself up, adjusting his shirt and rifling through his backpack for a better one. He slipped on the nicest top he had with him, then made his way to Dean's bathroom with his toothbrush.

They quickly got ready and drove over to the restaurant. And the whole way, Castiel refrained himself from jumping onto Dean. It was difficult, but he managed. He just instilled thoughts of dining with his relatives into his mind and it stored away all other urges he had felt.

The restaurant wasn't fancy, and Castiel was grateful. He didn't have any of his nicer clothes with him, and he was dressed pretty average. Dean, however, was an eye-catching sight. He was wearing dark jeans that framed his toned legs in a flattering way, and a nice white shirt with horizontal, thin navy blue stripes. Castiel hadn't seen the shirt, before. It was probably new.

Dean just looked so different. He seemed like he'd grown, in a way. His life was different- he was doing better. He had a new home, a new guardian. He wasn't in charge of Sammy anymore- he had a parent to take care of him and tell him what to do. And it seemed like Bobby was doing a really good job of it. Castiel just wished he had been there to experience all those big changes with him.

Then again, Castiel was going through big changes of his own. He had a new family, just like Dean. He had a new life. He was finally recovering, and working to better himself. They were both trying to change.

Mrs. and Mr. Madison were outside the diner, and when they saw Cas and Dean they came over to them with big smiles and warm hugs. Castiel never thought he'd get used to it- all the intimate spaces, soft touches, and family kindness.

"We've got a table outside in the back," Mrs. Madison revealed, smiling as she urged Castiel and Dean inside so they could cross through the restaurant. "Come on."

It was a beautiful day- incredibly hot, but with a cool and consistent breeze. The air smelled like warmth and flowers and trees, and their table had a giant umbrella over it that provided them with shade from the blaring sun. Cicadas were singing. There was hardly a cloud in the brilliantly blue sky.

Dean and Castiel sat next to one another, and Mr. and Mrs. Madison on the other side of the round table. Almost instinctively, Castiel found Dean's foot under the table and locked their ankles together. Dean responded by quickly brushing at Castiel's knee with his fingertips.

Despite Castiel's anxieties, however, the dinner went well. His aunt and uncle adored Dean, and both told Castiel of how helpful he had been, moving things and coming along with them to pick furniture for Castiel's new room. He had even chosen new shoes and a couple new clothes for Castiel, as well. He raised an eyebrow towards Dean at that reveal, and the blond looked away, smiling shyly.

Apparently, he had done so much for the family, and they had already pretty much gotten to know him. Once again, Castiel wished he had been there for that, but he was so glad things had gone more than fine while he was away. He was incredibly excited to return home.

Then there was the big news.

Towards the end of their dinner, over a giant lava cake that they were all sharing, Mrs. Madison announced that she was pregnant. It was incredible news- for as long as Castiel could remember his aunt and uncle wanted a child. They always tried at it, but it never happened. He thought that they weren't able to.

Mrs. Madison looked aglow with happiness as she talked about how big their family was going to get and how blessed she was. It was hard for Castiel not to feel warm with emotion. His face had hurt from smiling.

He was going to have a little cousin.

This was a new life for Castiel. A better one.

He did not tell Dean or his family much about the mental institution, just that he was doing fine and feeling optimistic about what was to come. He wanted to keep mention of that place out of their conversation, and move towards the future as fast as he could.

Everything around him was changing for the better. It was time Castiel did, too.

* * *

Castiel leaned into Dean's shoulder on the drive back. He held Dean's hand, and stared out the windshield. It was quiet, besides a hushed drawl of Led Zeppelin playing in the background. The windows were rolled down an inch, letting in cool air that met with their warm skin. It was sunset- the sky was beginning to darken.

He had never felt so calm.

"I'm going to have a cousin," Castiel murmured, at awe with the whole ordeal.

He glanced up at Dean, and saw that he was smiling. "The kid is gonna be so lucky to have you all," he replied. "Best family a person could have."

Castiel grinned at that, and nestled back into Dean's shoulder.

He watched the sun fade away.

* * *

When they got back home, Bobby greeted Cas warmly, and they watched some TV with him before heading upstairs to go to bed.

Upon arriving to Dean's room Castiel was surprised (and quite amused) to find that Sam's bed was empty. There was no sign of the younger Winchester, anywhere, and they had seen him just before heading out to dinner. Castiel grinned before walking over towards the bathroom where Dean was brushing his teeth. He leaned against the door frame.

"Where's Sam?" he asked, resisting the urge to laugh at Dean's shocked expression. The blond then went red, spitting out toothpaste foam and avoiding Castiel's eyes.

"Uh, Andy's," he replied. "He wanted to… I dunno, he's just," Dean cut himself off, rinsing his mouth, now. Castiel smiled.

"Giving us time alone?" he inquired. Dean blushed before he finished up in the bathroom. He walked out and quickly changed into an old t-shirt and pajama bottoms. Castiel observed, finding Dean's avoidance of the subject endearing.

"Look, we- uh, we don't have to do anything if you don't wanna. I mean, I understand and I won't be upset. You've been through a lot and I totally get if you wanna go easy for a bit," Dean answered, just as Castiel went to lie down on his bed. Dean walked over and sat down next to him, sorting through some stuff on his nightstand, then grabbing a bottle of water and taking a sip. Castiel turned on his side, and spoke, deciding that now would be the perfect time to.

"Would it be improper of me to admit that it took every ounce of my self control not to suck you off in the car?" Castiel asked, snorting when Dean suddenly choked on his water, bringing up a fist as he coughed. He was quite surprised (and a little disappointed) that Dean hadn't spit it out, altogether.

Dean looked at Castiel incredulously, now, and the dark-haired teen allowed himself to laugh. "When did you become  _so_ ," Dean cut himself off, laughing, too, as he tried to find the words.

"Promiscuous?" Castiel answered. He shrugged, pulling Dean down and giving him a kiss. "Probably your fault," he answered, making Dean smile against their kiss. "Besides, when did you become so nervous about sex?"

Dean kissed him more before answering. "Now I blame  _that_ on  _you_ ," he retorted. "It's just… I think I've always been so careful with you. About everything. You're… you make me nervous in the best way possible. Probably because I've never felt like this about someone, even with the others I've been with. With you, I feel a sort of… I can just  _see_ myself with you. In the future. You feel  _right_."

Castiel searched Dean's eyes, reaching up a hand to comb through his hair. He smiled, trying to push back the tears he felt burn at his eyes. He gave Dean a kiss. That turned into many more, and they lost themselves in it. When he spoke next, their shirts were off, and Castiel's pants were halfway down his thighs from their movement. Dean's were gone, completely. And they were both sporting bruised lips and love-bit flesh.

"I love you," Castiel murmured, every breath of every word sinking into the flesh of Dean's lips, making their mark- holding promises that they both felt ingrained within their being- sewed to their future and grasping their core.

They were not just words- both of them knew that. It was a vow- one that neither of them could justly explain.

Dean's body covered Castiel's own, melting into him and letting them sink into the sheets that engulfed them, creating their own world- one nobody could ever break through. It was stronger than ever before. " _I_ love  _you_ ," he whispered, repeating it again, and again- like a mantra, interrupted only by kisses and the gentle skimming of fingers on flesh.

Everything was warmth.


	46. The End (Warmth) Part 2

"Somebody got laid," Michael's voice rung out as Castiel walked into their room, a grin plastered onto his face. He only smiled wider, and sat on his bed, letting that answer Michael's statement.

An eyebrow rose, and grey eyes inspected Castiel with amusement. "You didn't tell me you have a girlfriend," he accused, sitting up from his position on his bed, where he had been reading a book. It was just as Castiel had left him. He wondered if the boy ever moved for anything other than food and sessions.

"That's because I don't," Castiel retorted, looking through his own possessions and grabbing a book to read until his group therapy in thirty minutes. Michael observed him.

"That's not your t-shirt," he observed, bluntly. Castiel smirked as he read his book.

"Warmer," he murmured, flipping a page.

It was silent. "Oh," Michael praised, a slight interest and appreciation in his voice. It was silent. "How did I not know that about you?" he asked himself.

"Because it's against the rules for us to engage in conversations about our private lives," Castiel recited, earning a snort.

"Well, lemme make it even, then," Michael replied. "I've one-upped you on this one," he insisted. Castiel rolled his eyes.

"Why do you make everything a competition? It's sexuality, not a game."

"Because I'm bored and there's never anything else to do. Now shut up and listen, I'm important," Michael chided, earning a laugh. "I'm not interested. In, well, either… at all," he admitted.

Castiel gave him his attention, now. He raised an eyebrow. "You're asexual?" he asked.

Michael nodded. "Yep."

Castiel tilted his head. "I assumed you liked girls. You've certainly… indicated so."

"Because none of the nimrods here would take me seriously if I came out as ace. I'm trying to be as normal as I can, and, well, I'm one of the biggest freakshows here. Not many people have been here as long as I have."

Castiel shook his head. "You're not a freakshow," he spoke, gently. "It's completely understandable. Especially since… well," Castiel hesitated. A flicker of annoyance crossed Michael's face.

"Since my uncle touched me, yeah," he replied harshly, his mood suddenly changing. Castiel flattened his lips into a line. They were silent, for a moment.

"Does anybody else know?" Castiel asked, looking to keep the conversation going and hopefully lighten it, once more.

Michael shrugged. "Just my therapist. And, well, you," he replied. He seemed uncomfortable, but Castiel felt strangely delighted that Michael trusted him enough to tell him his secrets.

"I won't tell anyone," Castiel assured. Michael grunted in response, but Castiel could tell he was grateful.

And, for the first time since being admitted into the institution, Castiel realized he was quite thankful to have Michael as a roommate.

* * *

As the time passed, Castiel used thoughts of his weekend with Dean's family to ease his way towards the end of the summer. He hadn't seen any of his other friends that weekend- his visit was kept quiet, so Castiel could have time to adjust and wouldn't be overwhelmed.

He had recorded his thoughts in his journal his entire time away, and read them to his therapist, going over how his weekend had been. He only had one nightmare, and they discussed it. It had been about his father, as his nightmares normally were.

He had dreamt that he was seven, and that his father had cornered him in a dark room, towering taller and taller until Castiel was nothing but a vulnerable speck. There was so much yelling and screaming, and Castiel had woken up crying. He explained that Dean had been the one to wake him up, because Castiel had been talking in his sleep. Castiel's therapist knew about his relationship with Dean, and seemed fairly happy that Castiel had someone in his life who cared for him so much and supported him. Still, though, he felt slightly embarrassed as he recalled staying up for the next hour with Dean and talking to him about the dream, as his therapist had recommended he should do if he had someone who could listen.

It had helped him, though. And, afterward, Dean even made sure Castiel wrote about it. Then he made him some tea, and they fell back asleep.

Dr. Nicholson was impressed with how Castiel had handled his anxiety and the nightmare. They reviewed some coping mechanisms, and then their session was over. Castiel left with the feeling that his therapist was just as pleased with his progress as he was.

* * *

It was a Sunday on the first week of August, and exactly a week before Castiel's senior year of high school. Today was the day he would be dismissed from the institution.

He had packed his things with an air of unrealty. This entire experience had been laboring for him, both emotionally and physically, and it was difficult to let himself believe he would suddenly be up and out and leaving this place and everybody in it behind.

He was going home.

His mental state had been stable, and he was deemed well enough to return home, with some prescribed medicine and occasional visits to a recommended local therapist simply to keep himself in check. It was more than Castiel expected to accomplish in the span of a summer.

 _He_ had done this for himself. Of course, he had the support of his family and friends. But, finally, Castiel did something for his own well being. He would never succumb under his father's manipulative abuse, again. He would only go uphill from here. Just like Dean had said.

It was a miraculous feeling. It was something he'd never felt, before.

He was confident in his mental health for the first time since his mother's death. He knew there would be bumps in the road, and that he could never truly fully recover, but that idea didn't scare him so much, anymore. He no longer wondered what pain awaited him, but instead reached for all the good he had in store. After years of this torture, it was all finally over.

Castiel was  _going_   _home_.

He did not get too close to any of the other patients, so it wasn't a particularly big event. A few people from his group session classes dropped by his room to bid him farewell, but it didn't gather much more attention than that. Michael watched quietly over the top of his book as Castiel packed up, not uttering a word. Castiel didn't push him to say anything, and he wondered for the first time if the usual silence between them was suitable for this situation.

But Michael didn't supply any conversation, so Castiel didn't push him to. It was uncomfortable, and it felt wrong.

After packing all his things, Castiel turned to face his roommate. They would only have a few more minutes together before Castiel would be escorted out of the institution. Michael was lying on his bed, flipping mindlessly through a book. Castiel could tell he wasn't really reading.

"So," Castiel spoke, noticing the slight pause in Michael's movements. "Are you going to say goodbye or am I going to have to make you?"

Michael smirked at that. He sat up. "I dont say goodbye. It's cliche."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "What about this place isn't cliche?"

"Exactly. I'm trying to prevent it as much as possible."

Castiel frowned. "Alright, well," he spoke as he rifled through his bag, "here, I wanted to give this to you," he offered, handing a book over to his roommate. Michael raised an eyebrow.

"You don't need to give me something just 'cuz you feel bad that you're leaving," he replied bluntly, not making a move to take the book. Castiel used all his willpower not to smack Michael over the head with it.

"It's not because I feel bad," he retaliated, sharply, "It's because you're my friend."

Michael seemed caught off guard at that statement. He blinked before sheepishly accepting the book. "Thanks," he replied, observing the cover. "Wuthering Heights?" he inquired.

Castiel smiled, now. "It's a classic," he simply replied. Michael grinned slightly in return.

That's when a nurse came in. "Castiel, your relatives are here," she spoke, making Castiel's heart skip a beat. He turned to face Michael, and took a deep breath.

"I don't care if you hate goodbyes, because I want to say goodbye. And that… well, I hope you do well," he rushed out, low enough for only Michael to hear. It took a lot for him to say it, and just as he was about to turn to leave, Michael grabbed Castiel's arm and pulled him in for a quick hug.

It was strange, the way Michael hugged. It was as if he'd never done it, before. Yet, Castiel could feel the teen's need for the physical contact- the emotions behind it. It was a small action saying he would miss Castiel, too.

When they parted, Michael put a hand on Castiel's shoulder, and shoved him gently. "Get outta here," he spoke, voice softer than Castiel ever heard it.

Castiel smiled wide, now, trying to contain the burning he felt in his eyes. He glanced at the nurse, who waited patiently, then back to Michael. "Page sixty-five," he whispered quickly. Michael squinted in confusion before looking at the book that was still in his hand. He looked back up and nodded, smiling back, if not in a confused manner.

When Castiel was a good distance away, he allowed himself to shed a few tears, then wiped them away before anybody could see.

On page sixty-five, on the upper right corner of the book, Castiel had scrawled his phone number. Along with his number, was a note comprised of only two words.

_Thank you._

* * *

The drive was long and filled with talk. Mrs. Madison showed Castiel ultrasound photos of the baby. She was only a month in, and the baby was merely a small, blurry blob on the black and white image. All the same, it was the most amazing thing Castiel had ever seen.

When they got to his aunt and uncle's house, Castiel took a long look at the place. He didn't know if he could ever really make it his home, or if it would ever feel like one. But perhaps it would be the closest he could get.

As long as he was away from his father, Castiel knew he would be fine. He knew he'd continue to recover.

Although he didn't have much to carry, his uncle still insisted on taking the load from Castiel and carrying it all for him. Castiel supposed it was from his wrist, which was still weaker than it once was.

However, when he walked into the house, he found out the true reason.

He was suddenly tackled to the ground in a mass of hugs, and excited cheering filled his hearing, mixed with combinations of "Welcome back!" and "We missed you!", or, "We're so proud of you!", and other exclamations of happiness that combined into a chorus of excited shouts.

Castiel, to say the least, was thoroughly shocked. But he found himself laughing as he hugged whoever he could reach from their position dogpiled at the front door. Hands reached out to him, as well, hugging him tight or patting him or ruffling his hair. He had to hold back his tears at the sudden wave of emotion that overcame him.

After they disentangled themselves, Adam helped Castiel onto his feet, and Dean came over to wind an arm around Castiel's waist. Castiel took a moment to look at the decorated living room of his home.

There was an extraordinary amount of balloons littering the ceiling, and tied to furniture. There was food and drinks on the tables and music playing from a radio, and the whole group was there, including Meg and Bobby and Sam.

Castiel was speechless.

Dean placed a kiss to his temple, and Castiel allowed himself to shed the tears that burned at his eyes.

"Welcome back, Cas."

Castiel smiled, wiping at his eyes and letting out a laugh that bubbled from within him.

"Thank you- all of you. This is… wow," he remarked.

"It isn't even the good part," Charlie chimed in. "Wait until you see your room."

And, at that, they all proceeded to lead Castiel to his new bedroom, Meg placing her hands over his eyes as Dean lead him and the other strayed ahead to open the door.

When he was inside (and had tripped over the stairs and bumped into the wall a total of four times), Meg removed her hands, and Castiel opened his eyes.

Once again, he was speechless.

His bedroom had different colored walls- one blue, one a soft sea green, one beige and covered with fairy lights and pictures, and then one completely black. The black wall had a small single wooden board into the side, and on it was different colored chalk and an eraser. His friends had already written and drawn various things on his improvised chalkboard.

His bed was tucked into the beige wall- the sea green wall behind it, and the blue wall to his left. The colors didn't match whatsoever, but at the same time it seemed perfectly suiting. The chalkboard was in front of his bed, where he'd be able to see it. He had an enormous bookshelf against the sea green wall, by the window that sat in the middle of it. It was filled to the brim with books, only one shelf left empty in the very middle, where trinkets laid for decoration.

Against the blue wall was a desk- mahogany to match the bed frame, and it settled nicely with the light brown flooring. On that desk was a laptop, along with a few more books. There was a carpet laid on the middle of the floor, blue (with an interesting thread work) to match his new bed sheets and comforter.

"We couldn't all agree on what color to do the walls," Chuck informed his friend as he caught him gazing about the room in awe.

"Obviously," Meg bantered.

"The chalkboard was my idea," Ash called out.

Castiel shook his head. "I love it- you guys, it's amazing," he exclaimed, letting out a laugh. "It's- it's got a little bit of all of you," he spoke, voice trembling with emotion. He looked at his friends, trying not to cry, again. "You guys didn't have to do all this."

"We wanted to," Adam interjected, giving him a smile.

Returning the smile, Castiel walked to the beige wall, where photos sat in frames above his bed. They were pictures that everyone had taken from the past year. Photos from New Years, the movie night at Dean's house, the diner, Ellen's house, all sorts of other pictures hung on his wall in a collage of memories. And, in the middle of it all, hung Dean's map. Castiel smiled warmly, at that.

"Oh, and there's one more thing," Jo spoke from her place next to Dean, giving the blond a knowing look. Dean seemed confused for a moment before he realized what she meant.

" _Oh_ -right, yeah, I'll be right back," Dean spoke before dashing into the hallway. Castiel raised an eyebrow at his friends, but nobody revealed anything.

"Should I be worried?" he asked.

"More…  _excited_ , I'd say," Charlie replied.

"Alright, Cas, you ready?" Dean called from the hallway. Castiel laughed.

"Just come in here!" he called back.

Dean did so, carrying something black in his hands.

It was a cat. A big, fluffy, black cat.

Castiel's jaw dropped in shock, and he closed it as Dean approached him with the kitten, a big, goofy smile on his face.

"Wh-" Castiel cut himself off, not sure what to do except to take the cat into his arms as Dean handed it to him. It purred, nudged once against his arm, and looked up at him with clear blue eyes. He smiled, letting out a laugh as he pet the cat, gently. He looked up at Dean, now. "You got me a cat?" he asked, feeling as though he couldn't possibly love Dean any more than he did at this very moment.

Dean shrugged, seeming flustered, now. "Your aunt said you liked cats. I was hopin' you'd be more of a dog person, but," he shrugged again, giving a laugh at Castiel's snort.

Suddenly, Castiel grew worried. "Aren't you allergic to cats?" he inquired.

"Yeah, but I'll live," Dean replied. "Do you like him?"

Castiel nodded, smiling widely. "I love him. Does he have a name?"

"Yes but it is so completely awful that I am granting you the honor of giving him a new decent one," Dean explained.

"His name is Buttons," Charlie revealed.

Castiel scrunched up his nose. "I see what you mean," he replied. He pet the cat some more, pondering over a suitable name. Suddenly, one came to him. "Gulliver," he decided, looking up at Dean and grinning. The rest of the group seemed confused, but Dean smiled back.

"Gulliver?" Chuck repeated.

"Well, he's your cat," Meg murmured.

"It's perfect," Dean concluded. "Gulliver it is."

The group went off to the living room to celebrate.

* * *

When the festivities drew to an end, everybody took it outside to a bonfire that Mr. Madison had set up. It was a chilly summer night, and Mrs. Madison passed quilts and blankets around to the lawnchairs and dry spots of grass that everyone sat on. Castiel was sat next to Dean on the grass, a quilt draped over both their shoulders. Dean's arm was around Castiel's waist in a comforting embrace, his warm hand settling on Castiel's side, fingers rubbing soothing circles into his hip. Gulliver was sleeping on Castiel's lap.

S'mores were being made, and pictures were taken. It felt like old times- back when he'd hang out with his friends all the time. Except now it was better. Now there were no voices in his head telling him he'd lose them.

Things were quiet, up there.

For once in his life, Castiel felt truly and utterly calm.

As the night went on and everyone began to drowse by the still blazing bonfire, Dean spoke up.

"Cas, you awake?" he asked, looking down at where the dark-haired boy was resting his head against his shoulder.

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

Dean was quiet for a moment. "There's something we gotta do," he finally spoke, making Castiel's heart jump as he looked up at the blond, now.

His eyes searched green ones. "What is it?" he asked, concerned.

Dean jerked his head towards the house. "Inside," he replied.

Feeling uneasy, Castiel lifted up Gulliver, earning a protesting mew. He placed the cat on the grass and walked with Dean into the house.

When they got inside, they went to Castiel's room, where Dean rifled through his backpack. Castiel stood by him, his hand placing itself on Dean's back as he watched.

Dean pulled out a small book. Castiel held his breath.

It was the book.

He turned to face Castiel, looking up hesitantly before looking down at the book. "You asked me to keep it while you were gone. What… what do you wanna do with it?" he asked as Castiel gingerly took the book back. He stared at it for a while, feeling his heart weigh down in his chest with dread.

Suddenly, an idea came to him.

He looked at Dean, then spoke. "Come," he murmured before walking out the room and back outside.

Everyone was asleep on their quilts outside, Gulliver having moved over to a snoozing Sam, where he curled up by his side and slept. It was quiet, mind the crackle of the fire.

Castiel stood by the flames, grasping the book in both his hands. Dean knew what Castiel wanted to do, now.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking from the book, back up to Cas.

Castiel swallowed back a lump in his throat, and nodded. "Yes. I think so."

When Castiel hesitated, Dean pried one hand off the book, and held it. Castiel looked into Dean's eyes, and the blond nodded. "Go ahead, then."

Taking a deep breath to settle the beating of his heart, Castiel looked once more into the fire, feeling its warmth reach out and sink into his cold skin. Did he want to do this? It wasn't just a book- it was far more than that. It had been Castiel's whole  _life_ , at one point.

It was a book given to him by his mother. It was what he had used as an anchor to ground himself to reality, when things got to the point where he couldn't decipher the voices in his head from real ones. It was what kept him safe. It was his guide.

But he didn't need that, anymore. He had his family. He had Dean. He had his friends. He had himself, and the health he had worked hard to gain, and would continue to work hard to preserve.

He didn't have to worry about the past, anymore. He didn't have to worry about who he once was. Everything had been revealed, and there was no hiding, anymore.

He had won. After years and years of suffering, it was all over. He wasn't alone. He wasn't chained into the chasms of his own destructive universe.

Castiel was finally free, in the best way possible. He was in control of his own future- of his own thoughts and choices and mind. Nothing could stop him from being happy, anymore.

And nothing ever would.

With that in mind, he threw the book into the fire, and watched the flames engulf it.

He squeezed Dean's hand tighter.


	47. Epilogue

"Wait, there's something on your face."

The wet thumb was already wiping said thing off of his cheek before Castiel had time to react. So he laughed, and batted his aunt's hand gently away.

"Hesther, please, I'm going to be late," he insisted, sliding his phone into the pocket of his suit. He draped his graduation gown over his arm, and Mrs. Madison adjusted the cap on his head, pushing the tassel out of his face and to the right, where it was meant to be until he received his diploma during the ceremony. She then took something from her pocket, and placed it around his neck.

His mother's necklace. It caught the light of morning, glittering familiarly. He was speechless- he thought he had lost it. Hesther tucked the necklace into his suit, and patted the cross where it laid over his heart. Then she grasped his face in both her hands, her eyes filled to the brim with emotion.

"Look at how far you've come," she whispered, voice threatening to break. Castiel smiled softly, bringing his aunt into a hug.

"I couldn't have without you," he replied, earning one of his aunt's signature squeezes- the ones that drew your breath away momentarily, and filled you with warmth.

"I'm so proud of you," she spoke. She said it two more times, and then they parted. Castiel slid on his gown, his smile not once falling from his face.

"I have to go-"

"Wait!" his aunt called out as his uncle walked in, balancing Castiel's baby cousin, Rachael, in one arm. "One picture," she insisted. Gulliver suddenly walked into the room, nudging against Castiel's leg, as if urging him to stay for a moment longer. So Castiel agreed to one picture.

It was more than that. They took one of Castiel, then one of him and Hesther, then one of him and his uncle, and then one of him with Rachael. Then he was finally allowed to go.

"Good luck! We'll be there the whole time! Meet us at the theater doors when the ceremony is finished!"

"I know! Thank you!" Castiel called back as he ran out the door and to his car. He drove over to the University of Kansas, where their high school graduation would be hosted. The whole while his heart hammered and his head swam with the words of his valedictorian speech.

He still couldn't believe he had been chosen for the role. His friends, however, hadn't been surprised, on account of his grades and GPA.

Still, it was an enormous responsibility. Castiel had almost turned it down, and passed it to the next student who qualified. But his friends wouldn't let him back down, and they even helped him practice his speech, staying up with him for hours every night as he recited it with them in his room, on Skype, or on group phone calls.

What if he blanked? What if he passed out? What if he messed up?

Castiel's hands tightened on the steering wheel. He wouldn't mess up. It wasn't a robotic speech about the future and all that it held for them. It was something he felt- something he spoke from his heart. Even if he were to forget a line, he could improvise. Nothing that he wrote wasn't his purest form of truth.

Castiel pulled into the University early, as he had been instructed to. He walked over to the theater, and into the back room where he prepared for his speech, along with the three other council students who would also be on stage with him. Only one other would be speaking, however. The class president, Hayley Cho, would be first. Then Castiel, then a quick speech by one of the city commissioners of Lawrence, who would also be shaking the students hands as they each came on stage to receive their diploma.

It seemed like a simple enough process, but everything was in chaos. Castiel and the other selected students payed close attention as the principal listed their duties for the hundredth time, as if they had suddenly forgotten despite weeks and months of preparations.

The time ticked by, and the rest of Lasserton High's students arrived and flocked outside of the theater, forming lines according to the alphabetical order of their last names. Castiel twiddled his fingers as he listened to Hayley express her own anxieties of the whole ordeal. While it was comforting to know that he was not the only one with worries, having Hayley rant on and on about the thousands of eyes that would be watching them and waiting for mistakes did not help to alleviate Castiel's nervous state.

Just as she was asking Castiel how many people he thought would be recording their speeches, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Turning around, Castiel was met with green eyes and a bright smile. He suddenly smiled back, shocked.

" _Dean_ \- what're you doing here?" he asked as he hugged his boyfriend tight, then pulled away to give him a hard look. "They'll kick you out of the ceremony if they see you left the line."

Dean's smile softened, and he placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "I came to check on you. How're you holdin' up?" he asked, seeing straight through Castiel's facade.

Castiel swallowed back the lump in his throat before speaking. "I'm terrified."

Dean placed both his hands on Castiel's face, and looked into his eyes. "You can do this, alright? I know you can. You've practiced so much, and you've  _got this_."

Castiel nodded, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, focusing on the feel of Dean's hands. His own fluttered to Dean's wrists, where they grasped for support.

"I saw your family, they're sittin' with Bobby, Sam, and Jess. Anna and Gabe made it, too. Oh, and Meg," Dean told him, happily. "Everyone's here."

Castiel's eyes opened and averted hesitantly to Dean's own. He stared for a moment. "Did… did he make it?" he asked, although he knew the answer.

Dean's hands gripped Castiel's shoulders, now, and he screwed his lips into a line. After a moment, he shook his head. Castiel released the breath he had been holding, eyes averting to the floor. Dean pulled him into another hug.

"Screw 'im, Cas. You gave him the chance, and he blew it. He doesn't deserve a part in this, okay? Today is about you."

Castiel nodded, burying his face into Dean's neck for a moment, before he pulled away. "You're right, I know. But you gotta go before Ms. Darvill gets back," he chastised.

Nodding back, Dean reached forward and cupped Castiel's face in one hand, using his other to grab hold of Castiel's hand. He leaned in and kissed him, and Castiel smiled into their kiss, using his free hand to hold his cap in place before it could fall onto the floor. They parted, and Castiel laughed, pushing him gently away.

" _Go_ ," he ordered, smiling at Dean's own ridiculous grin.

"I love you," Dean replied, fingers intertwined with Castiel's own.

Castiel smiled softly, now. "I love you, too."

And then Dean was gone.

* * *

When Castiel took his seat on the stage, he instinctively scoped the crowd for his family. He found them seated next to Dean's own, their eyes glued on Castiel, big and supportive smiles accompanying their gazes. Castiel smiled back, a quick and nervous one. His stomach whirled with anticipation.

After all the students filed in and sat before the stage, the class president was announced by Ms. Darvill, and she walked up and delivered her speech. It was eloquent and well-said, and she hardly missed a beat. An enormous applause followed as she walked to sit back next to Castiel, giving him a big smile as she did so. He wondered for a moment if she had been bluffing about her proclaimed nervousness.

Then the principal called Castiel's name, and a light applause greeted him. He stood up, and walked to the microphone, as he had imagined himself doing thousands of times since he had been given the role of valedictorian. He approached the podium. The applause silenced, and Castiel took a deep breath, hands gripping the edges of the wooden platform for support.

He spoke.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen- family, and friends… administrators, and teachers. I would like to thank the school for granting me the privilege of speaking to everyone here, today. It is an incredible honor to be standing here before you," Castiel began, looking around at the audience. His voice echoed through the stadium. He could hear the rustling of people in their seats- some subdued whispers. Thousands of eyes were on him. He licked his lips and tried not to gaze at anybody in particular. "Four years ago, we all entered the exciting, and often terrifying, world of high school with so many expectations, hopes, dreams… four years seemed like such a long time to wait- finishing high school was such a distant event in the future. It felt far too surreal to think about. And now, here we are, at our graduation…. We've all grown and learned and changed ourselves  _so much_ , and mainly for the better. However, our growth will not end after our graduation, today. We will continue to do and learn and be so much more than we are, right now."

Castiel paused, searching for Dean. He couldn't find him among the vast sea of people, and felt his heart seize. He took a deep breath before racking at his brain for what he was supposed to say, next. Then he continued. "Graduation is a time to be thankful for those who have helped you get as far as you did. For some, that could be family, friends, teachers… even yourselves. You simply cannot accomplish anything without the motivation that you all give yourselves to pull through another problem, tackling each one at a time. All I know, for sure, is that I would never have made it this far without the support I was given at the start of my junior year. At the beginning of high school, and even before that, I was nobody. I was bullied, harassed, ignored… I had no friends- nobody to connect to. All it took was one person- one new student who had no reason to befriend me, but did- to change my future forever." Castiel could see Dean, now. He was smiling wide, and Castiel smiled back before continuing.

"I was so low that I saw no future for myself. All I could focus on was getting through today, then tomorrow, then the day after that. It was a cycle- a system that I abided by just to preserve my life for a few more days, or months, maybe a few years, if I was lucky. I lived with this method for most of my life. I didn't think there could ever be another way of living. This person… he helped me realize that every moment-  _every second_ of life is precious. And there is nobody better suited for your life than you. You must not dwell on the bad… you cannot live in the past, and let it swallow you whole. Life moves on, you grow, and you move on with it. You must believe that there is something bigger for you out there- that no matter how bad it gets, you  _will_ pull through it. High school is a place where you discover who you are. Everybody has their own lives to worry over... their own battles to fight. But we pull through because we're strong, and passionate, and  _human._  Besides, what better way to prepare you for the adulthood of college than the emotional rollercoaster of a typical four years of high school?"

Castiel paused as a few people laughed, their giggles subsiding quickly so he could resume.

"You must think of life as one amazing and beautiful opportunity. You can do anything if you set your mind to it. There is so much out there for you to discover. It's waiting for you-  _has been waiting_. All you have to do is  _look_. Do not let yourself be held back by things you deem impossible to overcome. Take it from someone who has taken their life for granted more than a few times, and believe me: things could be worse. The odds could be larger. The challenges could be broader. Once you truly think about it, there is nothing stopping you from doing what your heart most desires.

"These past four years have been a challenge- for some it may have seemed impossible, at times. But here we are, and we've  _made it_. So celebrate, congratulate yourselves, because you've already overcome one of the biggest obstacles of all. I'm proud of each and every one of you. We are  _all_  proud. Now we can all continue to grow, and learn, and better ourselves in so many ways. Life is grand and open for you. Take it, and seize any opportunity that may come your way.

"As a class, we are all sitting here, having overcome whatever we may have faced, together. We are here because of our ambition, and the dreams that have pushed us to accomplish anything. Look around you, class of 2012. Every single person sitting here tonight sees potential in you, and knows that you will go on to do wonderful things. It doesn't matter what you choose to do, or what you deem to be a wonderful feat. Just remember that you  _can_. You can try, and you can fail, and you can get back up and try again. Success isn't measured in what you have won- but the amount of passion that you have put into your lives while you are here to live it.

"No matter what you choose to do after today, I know you will all be the best that you can be. We believe in you. I believe in you. Let's make the most out of this life. Because the sky's the limit.

"Congratulations, Class of 2012. And thank you."

The moment Castiel finished, people immediately stood from their seats, filling the stadium with a commotion of noise. He could see some crying, most smiling. The roar of applause and cheer was deafening, and Castiel almost cringed away from it in shock. Once he had regained his composure, he gave a laugh and gave a slight bow before walking back to his seat, his legs like jello and his entire being feeling particularly ghost-like, as if he were floating out of his body.

When he sat down next to Hayley, she gave him a big hug.

"You were amazing," she told him, her eyes shining with tears, her lips stretched into a grand smile. Castiel smiled back.

"Thank you," he replied, his hands shaking in his lap.

The applause lasted for minutes until the principal was forced to quiet everyone down. Even then, the buzz of life and excitement filled the once dull theater until the ceremony had finished, and the theater emptied.

* * *

Castiel was approached by many people where he waited outside the theater. Some people he hadn't met before hugged him and congratulated him. It was overwhelming, so when his family and Dean's family finally saw him and tugged him towards a partially empty grassy area, he felt relieved.

Hesther showered him in hugs, and Castiel's uncle hugged him so long and tight that Castiel had to remind him to let him breathe. Then he got a hug from his siblings, Bobby, Sam (who was now Castiel's height, if not a bit taller), Meg, and Jess (Sam's girlfriend, now). After they all took a few pictures and talked, Castiel spoke up.

"Does anybody know where Dean is?" he asked, looking around. Meg spoke up.

"He's rounding the whole group together. I told them where we are, they should be here, soon."

Castiel nodded, feeling a buzz of excitement in his gut. He couldn't wait to see his friends. Now that the pressure and anxiety of the speech was over, Castiel felt truly alive- like he was flying with every step and breath he took.

Eventually, Dean arrived with the group. They all took turns hugging Castiel, congratulating him on his speech and getting loads of pictures with him and with all their diplomas. Hesther made sure to have a picture of Castiel with each of his friends, then a group photo. She promised to send them all to everyone the moment she could.

After that, they all sat down on the grassy area of the campus green. Castiel looked around at his friends with a smile he tried his hardest to contain. Everyone had grown so much. It all felt surreal- he could hardly believe how much had changed in the span of a year.

Charlie was in a strong relationship with Gilda, and would be going to her university in Colorado. She planned to major in computer science, and was set on one day taking to inventing new computers. She had gotten accepted to multiple universities, almost all with a free ride due to her excellent grades.

Ash would be going to Kansas State, where he would also be studying computer science. He had also become successful in graphic designing, and had been a secretary of the school's graphic design club.

Chuck would be moving to Maine, where he'd be away from the chaos of his large family and living with his cousin, who was a writer. Chuck planned to be an English major at the University of Maine. He had finished his book series, and was currently having it published. He promised to send a copy to everyone as soon as he had it available.

Adam revealed that he wanted to be a veterinarian, due to his connection with animals. He would be moving to study at the University of California. During his senior year, he had been working at the local shelter, where he discovered this passion. He was incredibly great at it, and Castiel was happy for him. 

Jo would be moving with Adam to study to be a nutritionist at the same school. She wanted to do something with health, although she was not quite sure what, yet. It had taken a lot of convincing at Ellen, but eventually the overprotective mother agreed to let her daughter move so far away.

Meg was entering her senior year, and she was still working at the diner with Ellen. Her brothers had finished college and moved back home, and she was reconnecting with them. She was happier than Castiel had ever seen her.

As for Dean and Castiel, that had been a long and lengthy debate. They both applied to the same schools, and agreed to go to whichever one they both got accepted to that they both thought to be nice.

Dean wanted to study engineering. He had been captain of the robotics team during senior year, and his knack with technology and machines had won the school every robotics competition they entered. That proved itself with the silver and blue tassel (the colors of the robotics team) that sat on his graduation cap. Dean didn't want to move too far away from his brother, but he agreed to go wherever Castiel went. They both had great grades, and had worked together to achieve such academic success. After they had received their letters of admission, they both agreed to study at the University of Phoenix in Arizona.

However, Castiel's friends weren't the only ones to accomplish wonderful things. Castiel had made it to National Honors Society, and also gotten onto the track team. He had given it everything he had in order to place first on the team, and had won the school many events. He also worked hard to regain his health, and through months of dedication and labor, Castiel was the healthiest he had ever been- both physically and mentally.

It was surreal. If the Castiel from junior year looked into this moment in the future, he probably would've thought it was a joke. But it was all too real. Castiel had wonderful friends, an amazing family, and had given himself a purpose in his life.

Despite this, Castiel felt an inkling of sadness when he didn't see Alastair at graduation. The student had earned out of school suspension for the entirety of senior year, and Castiel heard rumors that the teen had gone to a psychiatric hospital. He couldn't help but feel guilty, but Dean eased his worries, stating that it was probably the best thing for him. It was strange thinking that, after years of being harrassed by him, Castiel would never see Alastair, again.

He couldn't help but hope he'd get better, and be okay.

When the crowd of the graduation had dissipated, and everyone's pants and clothes were dew-soaked, everyone decided it was time to head to the garage where they had parked their cars.

For the first time that day, Castiel could feel the emotion of what was to come. Everyone would be leaving to their colleges. They would hardly see one another, anymore. They had all grown up and were off to do bigger and better things.

Although they had all agreed to Skype as often as they could, it still didn't seem like enough.

Castiel gave each of his friends hugs when they reached his car, which Dean had parked next to.

After exchanging goodbyes with his friends, Castiel opened up the trunk of his car, and pulled out a suitcase and duffel bag, hauling them to the Impala, where Dean fitted them into the trunk and the back of the car. While he did so, Castiel turned to face his aunt. She had tears in her eyes, and gave him a big smile, reaching over to pull him into a giant hug. He hugged her back, burying his face into her curls and trying not to cry, himself.

"Stay safe, and have fun. I love you," she told him, placing a kiss at his temple. Castiel smiled, patting his aunt's back gently.

"I'll see you in July. We'll be back before you know it," he promised, pulling away to give her a reassuring smile. Hesther nodded, giving a laugh.

"Of course. I know. Go give your uncle and Rachael a hug," she told him, gently urging him over to them. Castiel picked up Rachael from his uncle's arms, and gave him a hug, balancing his cousin in one arm as he did so.

"Be careful," his uncle warned, giving Castiel a smile and taking his car keys when Castiel handed them over. "If you need anything, just call. You have the emergency card, use it whenever you'd like. Don't hesitate to ask for anything. And call us anytime you can, alright?"

Castiel nodded, bouncing his cousin lightly in his arms and giving her a kiss on the top of her head, covered with soft brown hair. Her brown eyes looked up at him, and she gave him a smile, giggling as her chubby hands grasped onto his dress shirt. "I know. I promise, I will," he replied with a smile. He gave his cousin back to Mr. Madison, and turned to give his brother and sister hugs.

"You two stay safe," Anael ordered, the usual strong and commanding tone in her words. She was worried, Castiel could tell. So he gave her another hug.

"You guys will be here in July, right? Dean and I get back on the fourth."

Gabriel nodded, picking up on the conversation. "Do you think I'd miss a chance to commit firework-themed pranks?" he challenged with a wiggle of his eyebrows, earning an eyeroll from his sister.

"We will  _not_  be doing life-threatening pranks, Gabe," she retorted.

"It's not  _that_  life threatening."

With a laugh, Castiel let them continue with their banter as he turned back to give his friends some more hugs.

"Make sure to text us whenever you guys can," Jo ordered, containing all the authority of her mother. Castiel laughed, nodding.

"We will," Dean spoke for him, at his side, now.

"We got that group chat open," Ash intervened. "You know we'll text you and blow up your phone until you reply."

"We don't doubt it," Castiel retaliated with a big grin.

They all gathered together for one last picture, and Dean stopped for a moment to give Sam a long hug and speak with him for a moment. Castiel turned away and talked to the others, giving the two their privacy. Then Sam came over to Castiel, giving him a hug.

"Take care of my brother, alright?" he asked, giving Castiel a big smile. "Don't let him get you guys into too much trouble."

With a laugh, Castiel nodded. "Will do."

After everyone had said their goodbyes, and all agreed to meet for the fourth of July, the group finally let Castiel and Dean climb into the Impala, and drive out of the garage.

Castiel watched as his family and friends shrunk smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror, until they had vanished and Dean and Castiel were on the road.

Dean's hand found Castiel's, and he gripped it tight.

"You got the map?" he asked, glancing over at Castiel. His eyes were glowing with the light of the sun, dancing with endless colors of lively green. He was smiling wide, his cheeks dimpled and his eyes surrounded by laughter lines. Castiel smiled back, pulling the map from the pants of his suit. They had taken off their gowns and hats and suit jackets. Their sleeves were rolled and ties loosened and the windows were down, letting in the bustling warm wind of summertime. It was a scene fit for a movie.

"Of course," Castiel replied, unfolding the map one-handed and laying it across his lap, letting his eyes trail over the familiar routes traced in red ink by Dean's hand.

Dean's smile softened as he looked out at the road- the endless journey it had to offer. "Where do you wanna go first?" he asked.

Castiel looked at the map, some more, unable to choose. He finally looked up at the road, sharing the view that Dean was drinking in. "Let's just drive, for now," he decided.

Dean's fingers twined further through Castiel's.

After a moment, he spoke.

"Are you ready?" he asked. His question hung in the air, blending with the soft hum of Led Zeppelin and the noise of wind that tussled through their hair and clothes. Castiel smiled, leaning into Dean's warmth.

"More than I'll ever be."

* * *

*The end.*


End file.
